Draco Malfoy and the Perils of Dating
by Estora
Summary: There are a lot of things wrong with Draco Malfoy's life right now, such as him being forced into speed dating by Ron Weasley. But it's better than sulking around at home, right? Well, maybe. It might help if a serial killer wasn't on the loose.
1. from the journal of draco malfoy I

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

><p>Welcome, readers, to the second story in the <span>journals &amp; ice cream<span> series! This is the sequel to _Draco Malfoy and the Trials of Single Parenthood_, but it can make sense on its own if you don't feel like going back to read the first. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

* * *

><p><strong>Draco Malfoy and the Perils of Dating<strong>

one

_from the journal of Draco Malfoy_

_September 1, 2018_

There are so many things wrong with my life right now.

Not wrong in the _terrible-horrible-tragic_ sense – more wrong in the _what-the-hell_ sense.

It's late. I've had a long day. I'm going to make things easy for myself and just write out a damn list of the Things That Are Wrong With My Life.

1. My father died by choking on a peach. (I'm over it.)  
>2. My wife left me for Viktor Krum. (I'm still a bit pissed off.)<br>3. My son is best friends with Harry Potter's son, and Ronald Weasley's and Hermione Granger's daughter. (The red clashes horribly with the décor.)  
>4. My daughter is non-magical and is attending a Muggle school this year. (I'm a hip, cool, understanding Dad of the 21st Century.)<br>5. I somehow got roped into hosting and organising the next Muggleborn Fund Christmas charity ball. (I'm screwed.)  
>6. And Weasley has set me up for speed dating because he thinks I need to get laid.<p>

There are more, but my mind shorts out at that last one.

The day began normally enough. Really, it did. I woke up early, all ultra-prepared (I made sure Livia and Scorpius were packed and ready to go _way_ in advance), the kids and I ate breakfast, and left the house at an appropriate time and made it to Platform 9 ¾. Flawless. Everything was _perfect_. Perhaps that should have tipped me off?

As it transpires, I think there is a new unspoken ritual: the Malfoys now meet up with the Weasleys and Potters on the first of September. For this, I blame my children, since they saw fit to make friends with Weasley/Granger and Weasley/Potter spawn. This has somehow expanded to include me. Or maybe that happened because I eat ice cream with Weasley in Diagon Alley on a semi-infrequent basis.

It isn't as stupid as it sounds.

The platform was in its usual crowded, hectic state as I waited with Scorpius for him to board the Hogwarts Express. "Keep safe this year, Scorpius," I told him.

"I will, Dad." But judging by the looks he shared with Albus and Rose (and by extension the Scamander twins), I'm not really sure he'll follow through with his promise to me. I'm positive I never put my father through the sheer amount of stress Scorpius is putting _me_ through.

"They'll be okay this year," Potter told me after the kids had boarded train. "I've overlooked background checks on all of the teachers, three times over, and an Auror will visit the school every two months."

"Good."

Potter sighed. "Can I be frank with you?" he asked, just as the train started to leave the station.

"Since when are you not, Potter?"

He smiled a bit, at that. "Look, what happened earlier this year… I think we might have stumbled across something."

So, basically, it's true. Flight from Death is trying to pick up again. The _Prophet_ was a paper of mixed opinions: one moment it claimed FD had infiltrated every aspect of wizarding society, and the next is said that the Hogwarts incident was the work of two fanatics attempting to resurrect FD. I wish it'd make up its mind, sometimes. Potter's expression, I admit, unsettled me. "Big?" I asked.

"No, nothing more than whispers and idle gossip, but given the right spark…"

Potter looked tired. I wonder if he'd slept much the last few weeks, or had a break. Upon closer inspection, Weasley looked just as tired, but remained in good spirits for the sole purpose of tormenting me.

"So," Weasley said to change the subject, "speed dating."

I think I preferred the Flight from Death topic. I can't believe he remembered that. He was _drunk_. I didn't think he was being _serious_. "No," I said.

"What do you mean 'no'? I've already signed you up."

"You _what?_ Weasley –"

"It's next week, Malfoy! It's in Diagon Alley, and they're expecting you." Weasley grinned. "There's this Auror who works in the Non-magical crimes Department who goes to this place all the time, so I asked him if he could get you a spot and he said no problem."

I stared at him, and then at Granger, Potter, and the Weaslette. "I knew it," I said. "This is revenge, isn't it. For school."

"Dish best served cold, Malfoy," Weasley said, and he grinned evilly. Or at least, he tried to. I don't think redheads are capable of pulling off an evil grin.

"I hate you so much right now."

Weasley laughed. "Feeling's mutual," he said, but we both knew neither of us meant it. "Anyway, I'll owl you the time and place details –"

"Oh my god, Weasley, _no_."

"What?"

"I'm not listening to any more of this." I called Livia over to me, and she parted ways with Hugo sadly.

"Oh, come on, you'll enjoy it –"

"No! No, I'm taking Livia to school now."

"You're still going, Malfoy!" Weasley yelled as I took Livia's hand and strode away.

"Maybe you'll find yourself a nice witch!" Potter called after me, and promptly doubled over with laughter.

Wankers, both of them. Them _and_ their wives, because they were laughing too, the traitors.

Anyway.

We made use of a Ministry car today to get to Pembury. Not that I drove it, because, well, I can't drive. We made good time, although I think the driver took a few shortcuts he wasn't supposed to.

I don't think I've described Ravenswood properly yet. It isn't a large school, but the building is old and the school itself is, according to the information magazine Miss Halcombe gave me, very prestigious. I should hope so, what with the amount of money I'm paying them. That's beside the point, though. The school located in a large village called Pembury. It's mostly countryside and is all in all very picturesque – the very epitome of perfection. Livia spent most of the holidays getting up-to-date with the Muggle curriculum. It's all a lot of gibberish to me, but Livia seems to understand it. She's been enjoying a series of books that Granger introduced her to, something about a lion and a wardrobe. Apparently there is magic in it, though, but the author is Muggle so I've never heard of him. Muggles, for their part, do seem to know about magic, even if they attribute its existence to stories.

Miss Halcombe was there to greet the new students, and welcomed Livia and myself upon our arrival. Livia was delighted she remembered her name.

"Hello, Livia," she'd said. "Excited about starting?"

She nodded emphatically. Miss Halcombe must have seen the expression on my face, though – I think it might have looked nothing short of devastated – and touched my arm. "Don't worry, Mr Malfoy, we'll take very good care of her."

I wasn't worried about that. I know she'll be fine. It's just, she's only nine, and she won't know anyone, and she's never been away from home for this long.

"You can always call her, if you'd like to speak with her. We allow the girls to have mobile phones outside of class hours."

"Oh, no, I – I don't own a mobile phone," I said. "Neither does Livia."

"You don't?" Miss Halcombe gave me a puzzled, if mildly amused, look. "What century have you been living in, Mr Malfoy?"

"According to a friend, approximately the late nineteenth."

(It's not until now that I realise I referred to Granger as the said 'friend'. Father, I can hear you spinning in your crypt.)

Miss Halcombe laughed and was distracted for a moment by another new student. I took the opportunity to kneel beside Livia and hug her.

"Bye, sweetie. You write to me, okay?"

"I will, Daddy," she said. "You have to write as well!"

"I'll send you a letter every week, if you like."

"Maybe not _every_ week," she said. "But, often. Please?"

I promised I would, and then I let her follow some similar-aged Muggle students into the school. I waved goodbye one last time, then noticed Miss Halcombe watching me with a surprised expression. "You write letters? Real letters?"

"As opposed to fake letters?"

"No, I mean – letters as opposed to email. You actually put pen to paper and write."

Quill to parchment, but the concept is the same. I shrugged, unsure of what 'email' was. "Well, yes. Since I'm from the nineteenth century and all." This seemed a safe joking explanation, because she smiled.

"Mr Malfoy, you are full of surprises," she said. Shortly after this exchange, I returned to the Ministry car which took me back to the Ministry. So now I'm at home. It's evening. I had dinner on my own for the first time fifteen years, and now I don't know what to do with myself other than sulk.

I do know one thing, though: I am _not_ going speed dating.

* * *

><p><em>September 3, 2018<em>

I tried my hand at cooking today.

It was a bit of a disaster, but whatever. It was something to do.

* * *

><p><em>September 5, 2018<em>

It's a nice day outside. I should probably go flying. Or go to Diagon Alley. Or do something. Except I won't have anyone to do it with, so I don't see the point. Still, it's kind of pathetic to be sitting in bed sulking and writing in a journal.

I'm such a fucking sad excuse for a wizard.

* * *

><p><em>September 6, 2018<em>

I guess I should be doing something about that charity ball thing for the Muggleborn Fund. What, I'm not sure, because when it came down to it, it was mother and Astoria who were unrivalled with their organisations. Because, me? I have no idea what I'm doing. "Typical male," Astoria used to tease me, back when we were amicable. Heck, back when we were _affectionate_. But she's still in Bulgaria as far as I know, and it's not as though I can go to her for help. I'm not about to bother Daphne, either; she's busy enough with her own kids. Looks like I'll have to ask mother instead. She's in France at the moment, but maybe if I ask nicely enough?

Mother took Livia's non-magical status considerably well – indeed, far better than I expected. She already doted upon her grandkids anyway, so Livia being non-magical didn't really change anything much. I think she's convinced herself that she's too old to worry about things like blood purity and power. She's still a social elitist, though, and her social crowd includes _anyone_ who is in the social spotlight, completely regardless of blood status.

Malfoy, right? We're survivors. I'll ask her. She did say I could Floo her any time.

_Later_

Or, maybe I'll wait, because she's on a _date_ with a French ambassador to the Ministry of Magic.

My own _mother_ has a better sex life than I do. I think I'll add that to the list of Things That Are Wrong With My Life.

If I didn't need therapy before, I certainly need it _now_.

* * *

><p><em>September 9, 2018<em>

It's Livia's ninth birthday today and she's not even home for it to be celebrated. I sent her a card and a non-magical present through Muggle post earlier this week, so she should have received it by now. I hope she's having a nice day.

The House Elves made an ice cream cake in her absence and I ate most of it myself.

_Later_

I mean, it's not as though I can go to Weasley and Potter and Granger for company, for Merlin's sake. The last I heard, Potter and Weasley are tied down because of FD and Granger and the Weaslette already have their own friends and are busy with their own jobs with House Elf rights and Quidditch.

Maybe I need to get another job. I'm a Hogwarts Board Governor but it's not as though I do anything except sit in on the occasional meeting.

_Later again_

This house just isn't the same without the kids.

* * *

><p><em>September 12, 2019<em>

I'm pathetic.

I went to the damn speed dating thing. It wasn't as though I had anything better to do with my time.

I'm home now. Thank Merlin, too, because that? That was a disaster and a half.

There were more women than men there. The thing was held in some dingy little room above a glove shop in Diagon Alley in the evening, but I didn't dress up for the occasion because, hey, it was speed dating. That was embarrassing enough as it is. At about 6 p.m. I signed in and loitered in the corner a bit, waiting for however many people still to arrive. There were two men there already, when I got there: one about my age with thick eyebrows and a drawn expression, and the other a bit younger and far too handsome to be making use of a speed dating service. The one with the thick eyebrows noticed me first and came over.

"Draco Malfoy, right?"

"Right."

"Hi. My name's Vitus. Vitus Fallone," he said, and I shook his hand. "How do you do?"

I winced. "I'm at a speed dating night. I could be doing better."

I admit, I immediately felt bad after saying that, because Vitus looked uncomfortable. "Oh," he said softly. "Well. Maybe you'll have fun?"

"Yes, maybe," I conceded. "How long have you been coming here for?"

"About two years now, ever since I lost my wife."

So. _Awkward_. Why do people _do_ that? It's very sad that he lost his wife, yes, and I'm sympathetic, but I barely knew him and I didn't know what I was supposed to _say_ in response. I went for a nice neutral, "I'm sorry."

"Thank you," he said. At least he wasn't one of those people who say, "What are you sorry for? _You_ didn't kill her." I can't stand those people. He excused himself after that and moved away to get himself a drink. I don't think he liked me much. Not that I'm gutted or anything, because I don't know him and I'll probably never see him again.

The younger good-looking man came over once Vitus left. "Ignatius Pantera," he introduced himself.

"Nice to meet you," I replied. "I'm Draco Malfoy."

"Yeah, I know who you are." Pantera grinned. "I'm the guy who helped sign you up. Ron Weasley's friend?"

"The…" I had to wrack my memory. "…Non-magical Crimes Auror?"

Pantera grinned proudly. "That's me."

I have to admit, I didn't even think such a department even existed. It must be really obscure, because from what I gathered, he's a one-man team. "Well, thank you. For signing me up," I said awkwardly, and he thumped my back.

"Wasn't any trouble at all. I had plenty of time on my hands. Job like mine? Haven't had a proper case since 2014!" He laughed. "No need to ask why you're here, anyway. Trying to make the ex jealous, are you?"

"Not as such," I replied. "What about you? You hardly look the type to require the services of a speed dating agency."

He shrugged. "It's more fun this way," he said, then peeked over at the women's group. "Besides, the girls who come here? They're the most desperate."

So, Pantera was a pig and a wanker, but that aside he seemed all right in small doses.

When some more men and women arrived, we all sat down on the tables. The women were the ones who rotated after a ten-minute conversation, but even so, I just found the entire thing extremely condescending. I had a miserable time, to say the least: of the twelve witches there, four refused to talk to me, five were insufferable, two were well into their sixties, and one I'm pretty sure was underage.

One of the insufferable ones was, to my horror, Pansy Parkinson.

I think I mentioned a while ago that Pansy hasn't spoken to me for four years because of what Scorpius did. I don't particularly wish to remember it, but it involved a sticking charm, a cockroach sandwich, and a bucket of paint, because he overhead Pansy call Astoria a "money-grabbing tart". In Astoria's defence (however unwillingly given at the moment), she wasn't a money-grabbing tart because at the time of our marriage, she had more money than I did. Pansy was being very petty and bitter, and there was no need for her to say that in front of my children.

Not that I'm condoning Scorpius's actions or anything. Of course not. That would be terrible.

"Draco," Pansy said.

"Pansy," I replied.

She sat back and crossed her arms. "I heard about Astoria leaving you," she said tartly.

She _had_ to play that card. I mean, who _hasn't _heard about Astoria leaving me? That was well over a year ago. Pansy was glaring at me, although whether she was trying to silently say _I bet you're regretting you didn't marry me now_ or _serves you right, you arsehole_, I'm not sure. It was a very ambiguous glare.

So I said, "Did you also hear that my daughter is non-magical and my son is best friends with Harry Potter's son and it was Ronald Weasley who convinced me to get back into dating? I'm out of a lot of peoples' leagues right now, present company not excluded."

I didn't say it was smart. I just said I said it.

At least I made sure she'd never talk to me or be interested in me again, I guess?

_Later_

I am going to glare at Weasley _so hard_ the next time I see him.


	2. correspondence I

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

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><p><strong>Draco Malfoy and the Perils of Dating<strong>

two

_correspondence_

_September 13, 2018_

Hey, Malfoy! Heard from Ignatius that you went to the speed-dating night after all. Harry wants to know if you found yourself a nice witch!

R. Weasley

* * *

><p><em>September 15, 2018<em>

Weasley,

You and Potter are wankers and I hate you both.

D. Malfoy

* * *

><p><em>September 18, 2018<em>

Miss Livia Malfoy  
>Ravenswood College, Old Church Road<br>Pembury, Tunbridge Wells  
>Kent TN2 4AX, England<p>

Dear Livia,

It has been very quiet in the house, without you. How are you settling in to your school? I hope you will be happy there, even though it's quite far away from home. You're very missed – the House Elves continuously cook more food than I can eat!

I'm very sorry I couldn't have been with your on your birthday, but I hope you had a lovely day regardless. Did you receive the present I sent you on time?

Very little has happened at home since you and Scorpius began school. I tried to cook something last week, but it was a bit of a disaster. If I ever attempt to make beef ragout again, make certain to tell me off!

I have passed along your school's address to Scorpius, so you may expect letters from him as well – with luck, through Muggle post. I have reminded him not to use Aziraphale or a Hogwarts school owl, but I'm afraid nothing can be promised – if an owl turns up at the school, just pretend it isn't yours or it isn't for you. I hear the Muggles are pedantic about animals for labour – they have equal rights groups and everything.

Enclosed with this letter is the latest issue of the _Daily Prophet_, as I know you enjoy reading some of the articles and I thought you might like to keep up with the magical world current events. You might be non-magical and receiving a formal education in the Muggle world, but you are still my daughter and the magical world is as much yours as it is anyone else's. I have already charmed the newspaper to hide it, so that the Muggles don't notice the moving pictures, so you don't need to take extra pains to hide it.

If you need anything – anything at all – write to me, and I'll do whatever I can. Keep safe and well, Livia. I miss you and love you, and I will see you again for the Christmas break.

Much love,

Your father

* * *

><p><em>September 23, 2018<em>

Mr Draco Malfoy  
>Malfoy Manor<br>Salisbury  
>Wiltshire SP5 5QG, UK<p>

Dear Daddy,

School is really good! I like it at Ravenswood a lot. It is always pretty and the other girls a very nice. Except one for one girl but everyone says she's just homesick. I'm a bit homesick too I think because I really miss home and I miss you too but I am having fun. The teachers are nice too. Classes are really interesting especially Muggle history. Did you know they had a war the same time as the Grindlewald war? Muggles have had a lot of wars but only with other Muggles, not with magical creatures. None of them believe in magic!

I got the present on time! Thank you so much. The books are great.

You tried to cook? Daddy, you can't cook! Last time we tried together you set the kitchen on fire! Maybe you should let the House Elves cook from now on even though they make too much. Or you could practice some more! My new friend Lizzie says that her father is a chef and they make cakes together.

Thank you for sending me the _Daily Prophet_. It is good to know what is happening back home. I'm putting a Muggle newspaper in with this letter for you! It is called _The Daily Telegraph_ and it is interesting. I don't understand a lot of it but it's funny because the pictures don't move.

Would you pretty please give the school address to Hugo so that he can write to me? I would like to write to him but I do not know his home address either. I can't wait for the Christmas holidays! It will be good to be home again and see you and Scorpius.

Love from Livia

* * *

><p><em>September 26, 2018<em>

Malfoy –

Look, I know this is going to sound really horrible, but I need a list of names from you. FD isn't anything to worry about - Kingson was an idealist - but the Aurors are still trying to round up the left-overs and the best leads we have are old Death Eaters. Believe me when I say I feel bad about this letter, but I wouldn't ask if I didn't think you could help. If you can give me anything, I'd appreciate it.

H. Potter

* * *

><p><em>September 28, 2018<em>

Potter,

Well, you certainly don't pull your punches. I want you to know right now that the only reason I'm replying civilly is because Kingson tried to kill my son.

I'm not going to be of much help to you, you know, and none of the people I name are going to be any help to you either. I assume you've already talked to Theodore Nott and the Zabinis. Beyond those, I doubt I'll be of any use. There was a very large number of minor Death Eaters, but I won't be of much help with their names. This is the best I can do:

Titus Fiore  
>Augustus Andros<br>Vipsania Wilde  
>Benedict Cavalier<p>

D. Malfoy

PS: Might I request you refrain from using your son's evil lunatic owl? I don't like the way it looks at my owl.

* * *

><p><em>October 1, 2018<em>

Dear Scorpius,

What's this, no letters to your old father yet? I hope you haven't forgotten me! Either that, or you've been too busy with schoolwork (hopefully) or creating catastrophes with Potter and Weasley (more likely). How has your second year at Hogwarts been going so far? It would please me to know that your new Potions professor is less of a psychopath than your previous one. I hope you are well and your friends are in good health and spirits after the situation at the end of your last school year.

As I told Livia in my letter not too long ago, things at home have been very quiet. You and your sister are missed around the house, but I hope to have both of you home for the Christmas holidays.

Stay out of trouble, Scorpius – you've made me lose enough hair for one year, I should think.

Love,

Your father

PS: Please send Livia a letter soon, as she would love to hear from you.

* * *

><p><em>October 4, 2018<em>

Dear Dad,

No, I haven't forgotten about you! I was busy with schoolwork. Honestly! Sorry I didn't write.

Things at Hogwarts are pretty tame now, actually. Compared to last year, anyway. The teachers are all really strict now and an Auror is supposed to come to assess Hogwarts once a month now. The new Potions professor is really nice – her name is Professor Robertson.

Rose and Al are good. We're all better from last year – you know that, Dad! Everyone keeps asking us what happened. It's _brilliant_.

I promise to keep safe. Lysander Scamander has been obsessing about more conspiracy theories and plots since the start of this term but there's nothing suspicious here. He says it's a shame because he didn't get in on the excitement and adventure last time. Lorcan is more sensible about it (you'd approve): "Lysander, I hardly think that a murderous teacher and poisoned students can be called _exciting_…"

So, I promise to keep out of trouble.

Love,

Scorpius

PS: Done and done! I don't know how she's going to send a letter back, though, because Hogwarts is unplottable.

PPS: If I'm not staying at Hogwarts this year for Christmas, can Al and Rose come to our place instead?

* * *

><p><em>October 14, 2018<em>

Livia Malfoy  
>Ravenswood College, Old Church Road<br>Pembury, Tunbridge Wells  
>Kent TN2 4AX, England<p>

Dear Livia,

How are you? I hope you are well. Is Muggle school really fun? What's it like? I am sending this through Muggle post. Mum says Muggle post can be slow sometimes but she says I'm not alowd to send you an owl because of the Muggles. She also said I couldn't send anything until my spelling and grammar got better, so I'm trying really really really hard to not make mistakes.

Things at home are really boring. I only have my cousin Lily to play with now but she isn't as fun as you because she keeps talking about going to Hogwarts and keeps trying spells with Uncle Harry's wand because she steals it sometimes. I am excited to go to Hogwarts but I'm still sad you won't be there. I asked my Mum if I could go to Muggle school like you but she said no.

What are the Muggles like? Write back soon.

Love,

Hugo

PS: I am at my Grandma's and Gramp's house for the next few weeks to stay with them so you should sent your letter back to the Burrow so I can get it.

* * *

><p><em>October 29, 2018<em>

Hugo Weasley  
>The Burrow, Cadhay Lane<br>Ottery St Catchpole  
>Devon EX11 1QT, UK<p>

Dear Hugo,

I am well, thank you. Ravenswood is really nice, and a lot of fun. It's really interesting! The schoolwork is all about proper grammar and punctuation, mathematics, and reading. No magic at all!

Muggle post is a bit slow, yes. I wish I could use an owl but the girls I board with would get suspicious. Besides, I like getting Muggle Post! It's exciting.

I am still sad I will not be going to Hogwarts, but I like Muggle school very much. Silly, you can't come to a Muggle school! Your mum is right. You are a wizard and you need to go to Hogwarts. You can tell me all about it! Scorpius never tells me what I want him to tell me.

Muggles are very smart and nice. They don't know anything about magic (they think it is fake) but they have their own sort of magic called science, and their own Herbology called botany. It is really interesting! When I learn more I will tell you about it, and you can tell me about what you learn at Hogwarts.

I hope to hear from you again soon!

Love from Livia

PS: You will have to give me your real home address so I can write more letters!

* * *

><p><em>October 30, 2018<em>

Hello, Draco Malfoy!

We at the _Single Witches and Wizards Speed Dating Agency_ noticed that you haven't attended for a while! With luck, this means that you're well and truly back in the dating game! If not, well, we're always delighted to have you back! It could be that the perfect witch (or wizard!) is still waiting for you… and you might find her (or him!) at our speed-dating night on November 14! If you're interested in attending, please RSVP by November 4 so that we can sign you up for a night of socialising… and romance!

Regards,

The _SWWSDA_ Team!

* * *

><p><em>November 3, 2018<em>

To Whom It May Concern:

This is my RSVP for the November 14 night.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy


	3. from the journal of draco malfoy II

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

><p><strong>Draco Malfoy and the Perils of Dating<strong>

three

_from the journal of Draco Malfoy, continued_

_October 29, 2018_

I ate ice cream in Diagon Alley with Weasley today.

It's good to get out of the house. Cold as it's getting, it's quite busy in Diagon Alley, and it was sort of nice to be around a lot of other people. The place is choked with Halloween decorations, though. And you know what? I _hate_ what Halloween has become. It's all really commercial now – such a disgustingly American concept. It's all very fake. Nothing like it used to be, when I was a child. I expressed my disdain for it to Weasley.

"You sound like an old coot, Malfoy. _Back in my day, hurr hurr hurr…_"

I don't know why I bothered.

Anyway, today was the first time he's been in his junk store for several weeks. Not that I've periodically been going in to check or anything, because that's obsessive and kind of disturbing. Just because Weasley is just about the only person, along with Potter and Granger, that I can actually call a close acquaintance, doesn't mean I seek his company on a semi-infrequent basis. At all.

"You haven't been at the store, lately," I actually said to him. Rather than commenting on my knowledge of it (and thus realising that it meant I'd noticed his working habits), Weasley shrugged.

"I've been busy. You know, with the Aurors and the FD nonsense. George can handle the store on his own."

"How's that going, anyway? FD?"

Weasley exhaled loudly. "It's crap," he said. "Waste of time. There's always gonna be wannabe Death Eaters, you know? I'm pretty sure it was just Kingson and du Lac and a couple of their creepy mates. They _were_ kind of amateurish."

I refrained from remarking that those two 'amateurs' were responsible for drugging an entire school, poisoning students, and capable of disarming two highly trained Aurors.

"Potter asked me for names," I said.

"I know."

I didn't ask if they were any help, and he didn't tell me. I presume they weren't.

There was nothing particularly memorable about the conversation for a while. We mostly made small talk, the obligatory referral to the upcoming Minister for Magic elections now that Shacklebolt's terms are up. People have been saying Potter should run for the Minister's position. I said as much to Weasley, and he snorted. "Harry?" he said. "_Please_."

He pronounced it more like "Puh-_leeeeeaze_." I am proud to say I refrained from asking if he was taking attitude and English lessons from his adolescent children.

"Who're you voting for?" he asked.

"I don't know. They're both as average as each other, if you ask me."

Weasley agreed with me. It's pretty true, actually. The campaigns for the election have been uncommonly dull. I don't particularly care for Giulia Gilbert or Anthony Abshott, as neither of them seem to stand for anything in particular, or seem to have any sweeping differences. Maybe it's a good sign? Perhaps the wizarding world is doing all right that we're not screaming for a new Minister or terrified of change.

"My children have expressed interest in having your children and Albus Potter over for the Christmas break," I said.

I'm not sure what I expected Weasley's reaction to be. Him looking uncomfortable with the suggestion shouldn't have been anything new. I mean, it technically wasn't, because I'm used to people looking uncomfortable when I suggest them coming back to the Manor. I guess it just sort of… hurt a bit.

"Er," he said.

I raised an eyebrow. "You don't sound very enthusiastic."

He shrugged awkwardly. "It's just. You know. The Manor."

Weasley, Potter, and Granger haven't been to the Manor since the War, and with good reason.

I ripped out the dungeon in 2001.

"I've redecorated since," I said dryly, which merited a small laugh from Weasley.

"How do you do it, though?" he asked. "Live there?"

It's a fair point, and one I've thought about a lot over the years.

It hasn't been easy. For years I couldn't go into a lot of the rooms. When the Dark Lord took up residence in my home he took over more than just the house. He took over our lives. Like prisoners, we were; mere servants in the grand house that belonged to the great line of Malfoys for more than three centuries. And there was some tyrant who preached blood purity despite being a Halfblood _himself_, lording over us, defiling our _home_. Aunt Bellatrix scorned us that year, for despising the Dark Lord's presence. She kept on saying there was no higher honour, except it felt like the furthest thing from honour. Mother called it a violation, and she was right. That's exactly how it felt to be turned into prisoners in our own home on the whim of a powerful lunatic.

But we never left. I've worked hard over the years to purge the Dark Lord's presence from Malfoy Manor.

"Because it's my home," was all I managed to articulate, though. Weasley seemed to understand what I meant.

There was a bit more small talk after that, but I eventually brought it back around to something that was bugging me for ages: "Are we ever going to talk about school?"

Weasley screwed up his nose. "What's there to talk about? You were a little shithead in school."

"Well," I flustered, "so were you."

We were silent for a couple of seconds.

"Is that it?"

Weasley crunched the cone of his ice cream. "Malfoy," he said through a mouthful of cone, "if you want to sit down and talk about your feelings, go talk to Hermione. I'm sure she'd love to organise a group therapy session."

And that was it.

He had to leave shortly after that; Auror work. Weasley – and by extension, Potter – are going to be tied down over the next few weeks. Standard Auror protocol these days; if there is a suspicion of Death Eater revivalist groups, they pursue it. Of course, there's nothing, so Potter and Weasley will be stuck going through hundreds of files. I cannot say I envy them.

Were I a more paranoid person I'd suspect that maybe FD is so deep underground that even the Aurors can't find them. Actually, I _am_ a bit paranoid, so I'm not going to rule that out, but for now I'm not going to stress myself out over it.

Maybe I should invite Granger over to tea. Company and good public image: I'm good at killing two birds with one stone.

_Later_

Then again, she might make me talk about my feelings. So maybe not.

* * *

><p><em>November 3, 2018<em>

I'm pathetic.

* * *

><p><em>November 10, 2018<em>

At least Scorpius is coming back home for the Christmas break this year. I didn't dwell on it much last year, because he was excited to spend it at Hogwarts with his new friends (though in hindsight they all probably had the ulterior motive of staying to instigate their investigative shenanigans). I'd had Livia with me a lot, while he was gone. But now both my kids are at school, and Christmas and the other breaks are the only times I'll see them all year. Did my parents feel like this, when I was at school? I always went home for Christmas, because they requested it, so perhaps they did. I couldn't imagine spending Christmas at Hogwarts anyway. For all their faults, I loved my parents.

I'll invite Potter and Weasley and Granger and their kids over to the Manor formally, I suppose. Perhaps before the Muggleborn Fund thing happens.

Speaking of, I really should start _doing_ something about that charity thing. It wouldn't hurt much to host it at the Manor. I mean, yes, I might get a bit of hate mail (Merlin knows I've received so much of it over the last twenty years that it doesn't affect me at all now) but if it's taken in the spirit that it's intended, it could work out. Hosting a Muggleborn Fund Christmas charity ball in the same house the long-dead Dark Lord resided in?

Look at me, creating controversies and scandals. I'm talented.

* * *

><p><em>November 14, 2018<em>

It… wasn't actually that bad, tonight. I went to the place early, partly in hope of avoiding Pantera. (No such luck, but still.) The other men and women there were different from the last crowd (except for Pantera and Fallone and some other guy called Gardener), so I didn't have to put up with Pansy Parkinson this time. Big relief, that.

"Oh, hello, Mr Malfoy," Fallone said when he saw me.

"Vitus Fallone, wasn't it?" I asked.

"Yes, that's me. It is good to see you again."

I didn't share his sentiments, because I was so desperate for company that I was lowering myself to going to speed-dating. I didn't say that, though. I feel a bit sorry for Fallone, actually. He must be lonely if he keeps coming to the nights. Although, I keep thinking I've seen him somewhere. He looks familiar. Or maybe it's just the thick eyebrows that remind me of Krum.

"Back again, Malfoy!" Ignatius Pantera cried when he spotted me. I didn't have time to hide behind the potted plant. He strode over and nudged my ribs. "Couldn't keep away, could ya!"

I don't know if I mentioned in my last entry about him, but Ignatius Pantera is _really obnoxious_. No wonder he gets along with Weasley so well. "Yes, I'm back," I said tiredly, and I avoided him for the rest of the evening as best I could.

For the most part, it was as boring as the last time I went, except for when the seventh woman came around. I blinked stupidly for a few seconds before exclaiming, "Titania?"

"Draco Malfoy!" Titania Greengrass grinned and flopped into the chair opposite me. "I thought I recognised that receding blonde hair."

She laughed when my hands leapt to my hair defensively. "Fiend," I muttered. "You're as bad as Astoria!"

Titania raised an eyebrow. "I am only like my cousin in respects to your hair, good sir." She took my hands and squeezed them tightly. "How are you, Draco? And the kids? I haven't seen you all in _ages_!"

It's true. I don't think I've seen Titania since my divorce from Astoria. I told her briefly about Scorpius at Hogwarts and Livia at the Muggle school before blurting out, "Sorry, but – can I ask, what are you doing at a speed-dating night?" And to be fair, it was a valid question. "If you don't mind me saying, you hardly seem in need of these services."

I mean, Titania Greengrass is nothing short of _gorgeous_. She's young, stunning, Pureblooded, and wealthy, and she knows it. Long brown hair, blue eyes, seductive features – and her figure… well, it would be a lie if I said I _didn't_ take a proper look at her body when I saw her tonight. (I'm sure she noticed me checking her out, but she didn't say anything.) She's very like Astoria in the physical respect, although a younger and more sexual version. Which isn't to say Astoria _isn't_ sexual; it's just that Titania has more appeal. I might have married Titania, actually, had she not been so young at the time.

(…I suppose the age difference is irrelevant _now_…)

Titania laughed again. "Oh, I'm not!" she said, and flashed me a wicked grin. "It's _fun_. And the men who come here? They're the _most_ desperate."

"Thanks," I drawled, and she gasped.

"I mean, that's not to say _you're_ desperate, Draco – I meant the others –"

"No, it's okay. I _am_ desperate."

Titania snorted. I remember thinking, _she's too pretty to snort_, but I don't think she cares much about that sort of stuff. She somehow makes snorting look good. "Oh, Draco." She patted my hand and gave me a sly smile. "You can probably expect an equally desperate Astoria here soon, you know."

"What?"

"You haven't heard?"

I shook my head. "Heard what?"

"Krum broke it off with her, about three weeks ago!"

I'm always the last to know gossip unless I'm in the middle of it. I admit, though, the news is still rather startling and unexpected. A better person than I would be feeling sorry for Astoria. Me? I feel a bit like Pansy Parkinson right now, except less bitter and more triumphant. _Serves you right_and _I bet you wish you hadn't left me now_.

I'm petty. So sue me.

"…_apparently_, he told her he was in love with some librarian. Mousy-looking thing, but sweet as can be…"

"How's Astoria taking it?" I asked. I don't think my motives in learning were entirely selfless.

Titania lowered her voice. "Well, she _says_ the break-up was mutual, but if you ask me, she's very upset." She looked a little sad at that. "She gave up a lot for him, you know."

"I didn't think she was in love with him."

"I don't think she was either, but she liked him a lot."

I snorted. "Well, whatever."

Titania frowned at me. For all her carefree nature and ease with me, she's still very much a Greengrass. Blood is thicker than water, as they say. "You could show a little sympathy for her, you know."

"She disowned Livia," I said. "I'm not feeling very sympathetic for her right now."

Titania sighed. "Well, yes. But you should have seen her when she found out Livia was a Squib. She was devastated. Didn't know _what_ to do."

"She could have started by _not_ disowning her," I growled.

"I said she was devastated. I didn't say she was thinking clearly."

"I don't consider that an excuse."

She sighed and we both dropped the subject, mostly because it was time for the women to rotate again.

The other women were either boring, too old, or wouldn't talk to me, but the session ended sooner than I expected. I left the place with Titania. "Can I walk you anywhere?" I offered.

"No, it's okay." She smiled. "I can make my own way home from here. Goodnight, Draco." She winked at me. "I'll come by the Manor and see you some time."

"I'd like that," I replied.

"Pass along my love to the kids!"

I parted with her after kissing her hand. Let it never be said I am not a gentleman.

So that was my night, and… I'm feeling kind of good about myself.


	4. from the journal of draco malfoy III

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

><p><strong>Draco Malfoy and the Perils of Dating<strong>

four

_from the journal of Draco Malfoy, continued_

_November 16, 2018_

I'm used to regretting a lot of things I've done. I'm not used to regretting the things I _didn't_ do. It's going to haunt me for a very long time. I know, logically, it isn't my fault. There was no way I could have known.

And yet. _And yet._

I don't think I have words enough to describe just how much I regret not walking Titania home the other night.

_If only. Perhaps. I should have. If I did this_… Stupid, pointless, _useless._

I'm still in shock, I think. It doesn't feel real.

Titania is dead. It hasn't been formally or publicly announced yet. The only reason I know she's dead is because I was arrested his morning as her murder suspect.

I'm back home now. I'd be lying if I said I'm not affected. My hand's shaking so badly I can hardly read the sentences I just wrote, and my hand is smudging the ink all over the paper. I haven't cried yet, which I'm not sure whether to take as a good sign or a bad sign.

The Aurors came to the Manor this morning. "Draco Malfoy?" one asked when I opened the door. I answer it myself, now – friendly public appearance and all that. It was early and I was still waking up, though thankfully I'd had the common sense to throw on some clothes and a robe.

"Yes?" I'd said. Yawned, actually.

"Will you accompany us to the Ministry of Magic?"

"Why?"

"Mr Malfoy, you are suspect in the murder of Titania Greengrass and you to be taken in for questioning. Please come with us now or we will take you by force."

The wands pointing at me were enough to convince me. I didn't even realise just what he'd said until a few moments late. "Wait, what?"

"You are to come with us –"

"_Murder_ suspect? What happened? _She's dead_?"

I think I squeaked, because the Aurors looked vaguely unimpressed.

I don't remember much in between that and finding myself waiting in a room to be questioned. It's a bit of a blur. I remember feeling numb, and hearing people talk at me and take my name and date of birth and check my wand, but not much else. I will thank Merlin for small mercies: Potter was the one who came in to the room to question me.

"Malfoy," he said after he'd locked the door and seated himself opposite me.

"Potter." I swallowed. "Is it true? Titania's dead?"

He stared at me. "Her body was found last night, in Knockturn Alley."

"Oh, Merlin," I whispered.

Potter opened the file he was holding. "She was found by a passing couple late last night. They alerted the Aurors. Primary examinations show that Titania Greengrass was strangled to death. She was dead for at least twenty-four hours before she was found."

It makes more sense now. Then, I just sat there shaking my head. "Maybe it isn't her. Maybe it just looks like her. How do you know –?"

"Daphne and Astoria Greengrass identified her body early this morning." He sat forwards in his chair. "I'm sorry, Malfoy. It's her."

"But I saw her two nights ago," I said stupidly. "She was fine."

"Well, that's just it, Malfoy. That's why you're here. Reports say that she was last seen alive in your company, on the night of the 14th."

"Yes," I said. Well, choked. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Yes, we – we ran into each other at the speed-dating night. We left together and walked for a bit. I offered to walk her somewhere, or home, but she said she'd be all right and then we went in opposite directions." I remember leaning over the desk desperately, grabbing Potter's forearms. "Please tell me she wasn't killed that night. _Please._"

Potter just gazed at me silently, and I knew she had been.

Two nights ago. _That night_. Perhaps only hours – maybe _minutes_ – after we parted ways. Potter handed me a glass of water and I gulped it down like a lunatic. Water, at least, made sense.

"Malfoy," Potter said in a soft voice when I put the glass down. "You and I both know what you're capable of –"

"How _dare_ you –"

"Draco!" Potter pushed me back down gently. I didn't even realise I'd lurched to my feet. "I said we both know what you're capable of. I also know under which circumstances. I highly doubt Titania Greengrass was threatening your children."

"I didn't kill her. Potter, I swear –"

"I believe you."

It was reassuring, that. To know I had someone who believed me, and Harry Potter at that. I sunk back down into my chair properly, shaking. "Thank you," I muttered. He nodded.

"Do you have an alibi for that night?"

"My House Elves can tell you what time I got home."

Potter made a note of it in the file. "I can't take this case, you realise. It's out of my jurisdiction." He must have seen my alarm because he quickly reassured me with, "It's being handed over to Ignatius Pantera. You've already met him, I think."

"Non-magical crimes guy? Yeah, I've met him."

"Good. I'll call him in soon. Just tell him everything you know, any information you have."

"Okay."

"Draco, will you be all right?"

I don't remember if I answered that or not. I did stammer, "I should have walked her home. I should have stayed with her –"

"There's no way you could have known." He touched my shoulder. "Take it easy. Just stay here. Pantera will be here soon."

I was left alone for about five minutes. It wasn't really enough time to get my thoughts in order or make sense of anything, but it was enough time to stop myself from hyperventilating. I heard voices outside, Potter talking to Pantera – I recognised their tones. Pantera entered the room, holding the file Potter had from before.

"Come on, Malfoy. Let's go to my office. These interrogation rooms always give me the creeps."

I followed him sullenly.

I don't think I've properly described Ignatius Pantera. He's a younger man and quite handsome, all dirty blond hair and an appealing rugged nature about him. Green eyes, clean-shaved, fair skin, and above average height. All in all, good-looking, if a bit generic. It's a shame his personality leaves a bit to be desired.

"So. Draco Malfoy," he said once we were in his office. It was a small thing, a one-person Department. He doesn't even have a partner. The office itself was freakishly clean. Well, cleaner than I expected, anyway. There were piles of parchment everywhere, but no typical pizza box on the ground or bottles of gin and whiskey. (None that I saw of, anyway.) He sat down on a chair on the other side of his desk, and gestured for me to take the opposite seat. "Tell me what you did on the night of the 14th."

I recounted my evening – how I went to the speed-dating night (which Pantera knew, because he was there in all his obnoxious glory), met Titania there by chance, and spoke with her briefly afterwards before parting ways with her and returning home to write in my journal like a loser.

I didn't say that last part.

He wrote everything I said down onto an official statement parchment.

"Am I the only suspect?" I asked when his quill stopped scratching the parchment.

He pulled out a packet of Muggle cigarettes from his pocket and put one between his lips. At least think that's they're called. They smell horrid.

"At the moment," Pantera replied. He spoke around the cigarette so his voice was muffled a bit. He dug around in his robes for a lighter. I almost suggested he just use his wand. "'Cept, you're not really a _suspect_," he continued. "You're a person of interest to the case. That's what we're supposed to call it now. No proof, you see?"

I nodded, relieved, just as he pulled a lighter triumphantly from a pocket.

"Doesn't mean I won't find, any, though. Innocent until proven guilty and all that rot."

I was a little less relieved.

"Thing is, Draco, it all looks very suss."

By then, I was acutely aware of the locked door and the filtered lighting. That office felt more like an interrogation chamber than the actual one did. Pantera stood up and walked around me and behind me, hovering in my blind spot. I heard Weasley talk about that, once – when you're questioning someone, you try to freak them out by only just staying out of their sight. Make them squirm until they slip something.

"You were the last person to see her alive, Draco. You just so happened to run into her that night, and walk out with her. You recently divorced from her cousin. Astoria Greengrass left you and your kids, disowned your daughter… anyone would hate a woman like that." I heard him light up his cigarette. "Records show that Titania looks a lot like your ex-wife."

I knew what he was implying, but I was too damn shaken and numb to say much of anything. "Potter believes me," I said hoarsely. I'm sure that weak protest didn't do much for my case.

"Potter has a bad habit of assuming the best of everyone, including you, Draco," Pantera said, and exhaled a cloud of smoke. I coughed on it. He walked back around and sat on the edge of his desk. "Really sad, you know," he continued. "Shocked me a bit to see her body. I knew her, you see."

"How?" I asked. "I take it you don't mean from the speed-dating night."

Pantera rolled his eyes. "Hogwarts, Draco." He kept on calling me by my first name, over and over again. I found it extremely irritating. "Pretty much every witch or wizard you see went there. Someone always knows someone. Titania was in the year above me. Gorgerous girl. Everyone loved her." He shrugged and tapped the ash of his cigarette into a grotty little ashtray holding down a stack of parchment. "Didn't have much to do with her, though. I talked to her for a few minutes the other night, of course. She didn't recognise me. Not that I expected her to."

He took a long drag and exhaled it. I tried not to cough again. Pantera shook his head, ignoring my discomfort.

"Terrible shame," he said. "She was so pretty."

After he finished his cigarette and smashed the butt into a filthy ashtray, he said he'd come by tomorrow and get statements from my House Elves, and let me go.

So I guess he sort of maybe kind of believes me, but doesn't really.

_Later_

I can't stop thinking about her. Titania.

I should have stayed with her. I know there was no way I could have known, but… Merlin. It was late and dark. I should have stayed with her.

What did I write in that journal entry, anyway? "_Let it never be said I am not a gentleman_." Ha-fucking-ha. I'm such a fucking joke.

I was being selfish that night. I didn't even check to see if she'd gotten home safely. So what if she was a grown woman and a powerful, armed witch? So bloody _what_? I went home and I spent my time thinking about fairy tales – that maybe this beautiful woman would spend some time with a pathetic, desperate man – while she was alone with her murderer.

I as good as killed her.

_Later again_

Titania. I'm so sorry.

* * *

><p><em>November 17, 2018<em>

There was a small article on it in the _Daily Prophet_. Titania was important enough to make the front page, at least, but otherwise it was mostly articles on the upcoming elections and Potter's efforts with FD and the 'economy on the edge of a crash'. It's always about to crash, but it hasn't happened yet; the paper just likes being sensationalistic.

I wasn't mentioned as a suspect, which is good, I suppose. Despite my recent acquaintanceship with Potter, Weasley, and Granger, my name still very dubious in the social and journalistic crowd. I could only imagine what the paparazzi would write if they learned I was a suspect. _Mr Malfoy, why did you kill her? Mr Malfoy, how did you do it? Mr Malfoy, did you miss your old Death Eater days?_

The article did ask for people with information to contact Pantera. I hope someone comes forward.

_Later_

I'll have to write letters to Scorpius and Livia about Titania. It's not as though they were close or anything, but they did like her. No sense in pulling them out of school for the funeral. Daphne and Astoria will handle that, I suppose. The Greengrass elders are all long dead.

* * *

><p><em>November 18, 2018<em>

She was going to come by sooner or later, I guess.

I never changed the wards after the divorce. Astoria let herself in, and I didn't even know until she was standing in my study doorway. This was a few hours ago – she's asleep on the couch now. She charged in without so much as a "hello", although she's pretty upset so I can't blame her.

"Draco."

She looked both more and far less beautiful than the last time I'd seen her. Her hair was more styled and her clothes a bit sharper, but she's lost so much weight and her skin's a lot more pale than it ever was. She'd been crying. I didn't say anything when she walked closer. "Titania's dead, Draco."

I was sitting behind my desk at that time. I stood up and walked around it to face her. "I know. I'm sorry."

"You were the last person to see her." Her jaw tightened. "Draco, please. _Please_ tell me you didn't have anything to do with it. Please tell me you didn't do it."

I closed the distance between us and took her hands. "Astoria. I swear I didn't kill her."

The thing about Astoria is that she always knows when I'm lying, but I can never tell when _she's_ lying. Livia got that particular talent from her. Astoria stared at me for a long few seconds, then burst into tears.

I'm still mad at her for what she did, to me and to the kids – especially to Livia. But she was my wife for fourteen years and I did love her. Part of me still loves her. She burst into tears before me, and I held her until she could talk.

"She's dead," Astoria sobbed into my shoulder. "How can she be dead?"

I remember stroking her hair. "I'm so sorry, Astoria."

"But _how_?" she cried. "How could she have been murdered? _Strangled_, they said! How? Her wand was found in her clothes! Pantera – he said that it implied she knew her killer and trusted them."

I scowled. "Pantera thinks it was me."

Astoria sniffed. "It looks bad, Draco."

Of course it looks bad. Last person to see her alive, clearly has a grudge with her cousin, someone she knew and trusted. "I know." I sighed. "Astoria, listen… I ran into her at the speed-dating night and I left the place with her, but I didn't stay with her. I left her and went home. Maybe if I'd stayed…" I looked away and waited for her to scream at me.

I really need to stop assuming the worst in her. She's a selfish bitch when she wants to be, but I did love her for a reason.

"You couldn't have known," she actually said, and held back another sob. "Although… speed-dating, Draco?" she added, wiping her eyes. "Really?"

I decided not to retort about Krum. I shrugged instead, because, yeah, speed-dating. "Well. It's been quiet without the kids."

In other words: I'm lonely.

She looked away. "How's Livia?"

"What do you care?"

In hindsight, that was harsh. She flinched. "Draco, please. I don't want to fight. Not tonight."

She swayed on her feet at that. From sheer force of habit, I steadied her and made her sit down on the couch. "When did you last eat or sleep?" I asked.

"A few nights ago, when I got the news."

"Stay here," I ordered. "I'll get some tea and sandwiches."

I've been getting better at making food. So, yes, I'm only good at sandwiches so far, but it's a start. Tonight is the House Elves' night off. (They're required by law to have one night off every week, thanks to Granger.) I made the tea and sandwiches, but when I brought them out I found Astoria had fallen asleep on the couch. I ate one of the sandwiches and sat next to her. I'm still next to her, actually. I should probably move her to a proper bed soon. Merlin knows this house has enough beds.

_Later_

I'm old fashioned. I carried her instead of levitating her. She roused briefly, just now, when I took her to our old bedroom.

"Draco?"

"Mmm."

"M'going to find them," she mumbled. "The one who killed Titania."

I almost said, "Leave it to the Aurors," then remembered Pantera was taking the case, not Potter.

I said instead, "I'll help you."

She went back to sleep as soon as I laid her on the bed.

As if my life could get any more complicated.


	5. from the journal of draco malfoy IV

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

><p><strong>Draco Malfoy and the Perils of Dating<strong>

five

_from the journal of Draco Malfoy, continued_

_November 20, 2018_

The things I get myself into.

I went with Astoria to Knockturn Alley today, early this morning, to see where Titania had been killed. Astoria asked Daphne if she wanted to come, but I think Daphne is pretending it hasn't happened and doesn't want a part in what we're doing. So it looks like it's just me, Astoria, and Pantera.

Yeah, Pantera. Three's a crowd and all that.

When we reached the place, I stayed back as Astoria stepped around the pathetic "crime scene" markings. They'd washed away anyway, from the rain. It was a sobering sight, seeing Astoria kneel on the filthy ground where Titania's body had been discovered. I think she might have been crying, but I'm not sure. I felt like I should have gone over to her or something, but an old woman (a Knockturn Alley resident, I assume, judging the state of her attire) walked past, tapping her cane against the walls and ground.

"Shame, innit," she croaked when she passed me.

I was a little sharp with her in my response: "I should think a woman's death would be more than a 'shame'."

The old woman didn't seem to notice my tone, though. "It ain't right," she muttered. "It ain't right, all those gels dying 'ere."

It took a couple of seconds for that to sink in. "What?"

"Eh!" She smacked her cane at my knee. "Yer deaf, boy! I says what I mean! It ain't right. She was only the fifth gel this year t' turn up 'ere!"

Before I could say something to Astoria, Pantera's obnoxious drawl interrupted. "Returning to the scene of the crime, Draco?"

I cannot begin to describe how much I hate him calling me 'Draco'. About as much as I hate the smell of that foul thing he smokes, perhaps, combined with the thought of having my balls caught in a rusty vice.

Okay, okay, I'm being harsh. He's not actually _that_ bad, I don't think. Still, he was being really freaking obnoxious when he approached us, and I was ready to let him know just how much I didn't appreciate it, but Astoria rose and faced Pantera before I could do or say anything. "Actually, Auror Pantera, I asked him to accompany me."

He blinked, no doubt surprised by her presence, and had the decency to bow his head. "Ms Greengrass. I'm sorry for your loss."

She nodded tersely.

"But seriously," he said, looking back at me. "Why are you here?"

I felt like saying, _returning to the scene of the crime, duh_, but I don't think that would have gone down very well. "Astoria wanted to see where Titania was killed," I said truthfully instead.

"Well, we don't know she was killed _here_," Pantera said. "Her body just ended up here."

"I wanted to see if anything was missed," Astoria said.

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm very thorough, Ms Greengrass," he said tightly. All Astoria did was raise an eyebrow and look away again, back at the ground.

"She must have been terrified," she murmured.

"I'm sure the other four women were terrified as well," I said. I'm not really good at being subtle. Astoria stared at me, and so did Pantera.

"How did you…?" he said.

I crossed my arms. "Didn't you think it was important, Pantera? To let us know?"

He looked back and forth between me and Astoria before frowning. "I think should both come back to my private office."

Turns out that Ignatius Pantera has his own private practice in Diagon Alley and makes extra money by taking on infidelity cases in his spare time. "I ruin marriages for a living," he explained, "but it's a lot less glamorous than you'd think."

_This_ was the messy office. There weren't just piles of parchment; there were _mountains_. Food wrappers and butterbeer cans and stacks of old_Daily Prophet_ newspapers, and dirty ashtrays weighing down a majority of the piles. The walls were cluttered with awards and cut out articles, and on the left wall there was a map of Wizarding Britain with bits and pieces of string pinned all over it. And I thought Potter and Weasley were slobs.

From the way Astoria's face turned into an emotionless mask, I could tell the office offended her delicate constitution.

"All right," Pantera said, slouching into a chair. "Spill. Who told you about the others?"

He did gesture for me and Astoria to sit down on the other chairs, but we stayed standing. I'm willing to sit my arse down on a lot of things these days, but that seat certainly wasn't one of them. "One of the residents of Knockturn Alley mentioned it to me. Fifth woman this year, she said."

Pantera grunted and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

"You didn't say anything to me about it," I accused.

"Of course I didn't say anything to you. You were a suspect. Sorry," he corrected with a drawl, not sounding very sorry at all. "_Person of interest_."

"Auror Pantera," Astoria said. "Titania's murder wasn't the first in that area, then. Is it connected to the others?"

"I don't know." He flicked open his lighter and ignited the end of his cigarette. "Probably."

"Why aren't the Aurors doing something about it?"

"I _am_ the Auror doing something about it."

"Just you?"

"Got a problem with that?"

As a matter of fact, Astoria did have a problem with that – I'd recognise that unimpressed glare anywhere. She certainly stared at me enough with it. I became immune after a decade or so, though. Pantera got the full blast. He winced and leaned against his desk.

"The thing is," he said, exhaling smoke, "I'm on my own here. When someone is murdered in the magical world, everyone assumes it was poison, or an AK, or an asphyxiation curse, or someone spelling a rope to tighten around someone's neck, or something actually _magical_. Do you know how rare it is for someone to turn up murdered by non-magical means?" He puffed on his cigarette agitatedly. "Pretty fucking rare, let me tell you. And they still need to be investigated, so the Aurors slapped this department together. Me, I was the only one interested enough to take the job."

He glared at his certificate on the wall.

"And the pay is fucking shit," he added.

He sighed there, looking very tired for a moment.

"When did you realise there was a pattern?" I asked.

"When the third girl turned up. Honoria Heston, back in June. There was a small article on it in the _Prophet_." I remember it briefly, but at the time I was sort of dealing with the aftermath of my son being poisoned by a psychopathic Potions teacher. "Thing is," Pantera continued, "I'm not even sure what the pattern is exactly, other than women in their late twenties."

On a hunch, I asked, "Is this why you were at the speed-dating?"

Pantera glanced at me. "Heh," he said. "Not bad, Draco. Yeah, it's why I've been going there. I think there's a connection. Now three of the five women in the last eleven months who've turned up killed in Knockturn Alley went to the speed-dating nights at some point prior to their deaths."

"So it can't be Draco," Astoria reasoned. "He's only been twice in the past two months."

"Honestly, I was hoping Titania was unconnected." He shrugged. "It'd be easier to pin the blame on him, but then I'd be letting a serial killer slip out of my grasp."

"Wow. Aren't you simply the paragon of law and justice," I said.

"Bit rich, coming from you," he said, and I'm sure the bastard glanced at my forearm before smashing his cigarette into the closest ash tray. "I've hit a dead end. Again. Same as all the other cases." He stood up and started pacing at this point, making the floor groan loudly under his weight. "See, no magic, right? So it can't be traced. No witnesses. No DNA either. I wanted to try Muggle technology," Pantera explained when Astoria and I frowned. "They can detect skin or hair and cross it against a library of peoples' biological make-up. Trouble is, us wizards? We don't have a library of DNA like the Muggles do. There weren't traces of DNA anyway – I think the killer uses gloves."

"You're sure they're connected."

"As sure as I can be right now. Thing is, I don't have the funding necessary to do what I need to do. That's why so many of my cases go cold. It's not like my department is the highest priority of the Ministry."

"Then tell us."

"I can't. Confidential. You're private citizens."

Both Astoria and myself were relatively irritated by this stage. I was busy making a mental note to pester Potter and Weasley about it until they did something, but Astoria… well. When she gets angry – not _loses-her-temper_ angry, but full on _hell-hath-no-fury_ angry – she doesn't yell. She doesn't even snap, or sound aggressive. She talks in this low tone, even and measured, and it's fucking scary as hell.

"Ignatius Pantera," she said, leaning close to him. "Listen to me, and listen closely. My cousin was murdered, and I will not rest until I have found her killer and brought them to justice. Don't you _dare_ tell me that her case will go cold. You need funding? Fine. You have it. But you – you are going to get your act together and stop pitying yourself. You have a job to do and you'd better darn well do it, or so help me I will do it _myself_. Do you understand?"

He blinked at her. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. You can start by telling me and Draco everything you know and have so far."

So he did.

Yeah, I definitely married her for a reason.

_Later_

Oh, and Astoria is now organising the Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball.

"What do you mean you haven't done anything?"

Because I'm a useless sack of shit. According to her.

So now she's doing it because she doesn't trust me to do anything when it comes to organising functions. All she's letting me do is send out invitations, and even then the most I'm allowed to do is write peoples' names on the envelopes. I asked her what I was supposed to do at the actual function.

"Stand around and look pretty."

She's such a goddamned control freak, I swear.

I am uncertain as to whether I should be feeling relieved or insulted.

* * *

><p><em>Case Notes<em>

Felicity Foulton, aged 29, killed 7/1/18.  
>Strangled. N struggle.<br>Interviews with family conducted by IP 8/1/18.  
>Y SWWSDA.<br>N witnesses.

Arianna Desiree, aged 26, killed 9/3/18.  
>Chest stabbedblood loss. Y struggle, N murder weapon.  
>Interview with sister conducted by IP 113/18.  
>N SWWSDA.<br>N witnesses.

Honoria Heston, aged 26, killed 16/6/18.  
>Strangled. YN struggle?  
>Interview with half-brother conducted by IP 176/18.  
>Y SWWSDA.<br>N witnesses.

Madison Levy, aged 27, killed 3/9/18.  
>Blunt-force trauma to back of head. N struggle, N murder weapon.<br>N interview: no relatives.  
>N SWWSDA.<br>N witnesses.

Titania Greengrass, aged 28, killed 14/11/18.  
>Strangled. N struggle.<br>Interviews with family conducted by H. Potter and IP 16/11/18.  
>Y SWWSDA.<br>N witnesses.

? Pattern – age? (all late-20s) – appearance? (brown hair connection? No, A. Desiree blonde.)  
>Not a sexual crime  no signs of sexual assault.  
>Why no struggle? IP thinks they knew their murderer. Connection: ? SWWSDA<br>Astoria to look through old _Daily Prophet_ articles.

* * *

><p><em>November 24, 2018<em>

"Don't you think it's a bit cold for ice cream?"

"You're being a wuss, Weasley. Man up."

I caved today and went to Diagon Alley, basically. Weasley was there, which was just a stroke of luck in my case; I had been fully prepared to sit in Fortescue's alone. He caught me up on all the latest FD gossip and the latest cases with enchanted Muggle objects wreaking havoc in Hogsmeade. I'm not even sure he and Potter _do_ anything other than sit in their fancy Head Auror office and look important. I caught him up on Titania's murder. I don't remember the specifics of most of the conversation, though I do remember this next part. (And I really, really wish I didn't.)

"…so now I'm going to help Astoria and Pantera investigate the murders."

Weasley's eyebrows were quite high by this stage. I wanted to comment that if they went any higher, he'd give himself that new hairline he needed.

"Astoria? Really?" He sounded very unimpressed.

"Yes, really."

He crunched on his cone with his mouth open like the plebe he is. "Malfoy, you do remember that she left you for Krum and then disowned your daughter."

"Her cousin was murdered. Give her a break."

"Yeah, but…"

"She's not an ex-girlfriend, Weasley. She's my ex-_wife_. We were married for fourteen years and not all of it was bad."

Which is true; it certainly wasn't. I mentioned in an earlier entry that we didn't really marry for love, more out of convenience, but we did share a number of years where we were very happy. She's smart, Astoria. There was never a boring moment with her.

Weasley stared at me and groaned. "Oh, Merlin."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"When you lie, could you at least have the decency to _pretend_ you're trying to make it convincing?"

"It's nothing, Malfoy!" He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's just, you know. I thought you hated her."

"_Hate_ is a strong word."

He groaned again. "Divorced men, you're all the same," he muttered, then faced me. "Look," he said, his ears turning more red than his hair, "whatever you do, just… don't sleep with her, okay? It won't turn out well."

"…Did you just give me _relationship advice_?"

"Shut up."

"There are _so many things wrong with that_ –"

"I said shut up!"

We sat and ate awkwardly for a couple of minutes. He _could_ have let it drop and we _could_ have pretended he'd never brought it up, but _no_. He's_Weasley_, so he has to be embarrassing and obnoxious. Him and Pantera – match made in heaven, I swear.

"Look," he eventually said again, "all I'm saying is, you've been alone for a while, yeah?"

"I don't want to _talk_ about this, Weasley –"

"I'm just saying, you got divorced for a reason! Don't do anything stupid." He'd turned very red by that stage, and so he bloody well should have, the twat. "Um. I'll shut up now."

"Good idea," I said coldly, and ate my ice cream too quickly and gave myself brain freeze.

Astoria and I did divorce for a reason. Not just Krum; he was a symptom of the larger disease. Astoria and I clash. She's selfish and has never pretended to be anything else, and I'm impatient and not a very nice person. In the end, we weren't what either of us wanted. I wanted a loving wife who paid attention to our kids, and she wanted a husband who paid attention to her. Also someone more charismatic. (That's not guesswork – I overheard her complaining to Daphne once. What the hell does it mean, anyway? _Charismatic_. Aren't I charismatic? You don't recover a family name to the extent I have without charisma, in my humble opinion.)

Anyway.

Basically… I'm aiding my ex-wife and an obnoxious under-funded Auror solve a series of non-magical murders, there's a serial killer on the loose, and Ronald Weasley is giving me relationship advice.

I think my life just more complicated.


	6. correspondence II

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

><p><strong>Draco Malfoy and the Perils of Dating<strong>

six

_correspondence_

_November 29, 2018_

Pantera,

I've reviewed the notes you let me see and I can't see any other connections than SWWSDA – and even that's dubious. What did the families say? Is it possible any of the victims knew each other? They're all pretty close in age.

Astoria and I are funding you now, so is there anyone you want to bring onto the cases to help out? Hermione Granger-Weasley recommended trying a few Muggle Aurors. Apparently they're good at solving non-magical crimes.

D. Malfoy

* * *

><p><em>November 30, 2018<em>

Draco,

Look, I have to be careful how much I share with you. I know I'm a bit unconventional but in the eyes of the Aurors and the Ministry of Magic, you and Ms Greengrass, regardless of your status, are private citizens and there's a lot of confidential information I can't share with you.

The families I interviewed weren't very forthcoming, and you know I didn't even notice the pattern until the third girl showed up. None of the girls had enemies that their families or friends knew of. As for a profile on the killer, that's hard, because we don't know motive. It isn't sexual. Revenge crossed my mind, but without a proper lead it's hard to say what _kind_ of revenge.

Two Muggle fuzz have been highly recommended to me – two guys called Holmes and Angel. The first is supposedly a high-functioning sociopath, and the other is this ultra-obsessive guy who's stationed at a small Muggle village called Sandford. I'm not keen on the first, and the second is busy with his own conspiracy/serial killer thing. And I don't think either of them knows about magic, which is a bit of an issue. Any other brilliant ideas, Draco? There's this American wizard, Harry Dresden, but I think he's busy averting the apocalypse or something.

Ignatius

* * *

><p><em>November 30, 2018<em>

Pantera,

If Astoria and I are going to help you, you need to give us more information. There are ways around confidentiality. Figure it out.

This is a series of murders. There has to be another connection. What else do we know about the girls murdered, other than their ages and connection to SWWSDA? Physical appearance? Social group? Hobbies? There's always a motive. People don't just kill for no reason. It's not sexual – so is it associative? Have you identified any "people of interest" at SWWSDA? You're not really being very inspiring, you know.

That's an emphatic "No" on Dresden – personally, I think he's a freak. Something to do with the name "Harry", I'm sure. Or maybe it's just because he's American. They're strange people, Americans. I don't trust them.

D. Malfoy

* * *

><p><em>December 2, 2018<em>

Dear Draco,

I've been going through all of last year's newspaper's and I've attached the articles I think are relevant. Non-magical crimes aren't especially common, but there's been a statistical spike over the past fifteen months. I've put the ones about twenty-something women at the top and the others towards the end. Frankly, it's discouraging to know that the Aurors put an imbecile in the one department that's actually active at the moment.

If you can, talk to Jessica Altar and Catherine Nightingale – they were Titania's best friends from Hogwarts, according to her old letters that I've been going through. They might be able to tell you things Daphne and I don't know, and maybe something about the other women. Felicity Foulton, I think, would have been in their year at Hogwarts or the year above.

Normally I wouldn't be so insistent, but I'm worried. There's a serial killer out there, Draco. What if there are other victims Pantera has missed? He doesn't exactly strike me as the cleanest wand in the window.

Look over the articles, but don't bother me for the next couple of weeks unless it's important or about Titania – I'm extremely busy with the Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball organisations at the moment.

Astoria

* * *

><p><em>December 3, 2018<em>

Miss Livia Malfoy  
>Ravenswood College, Old Church Road<br>Pembury, Tunbridge Wells  
>Kent TN2 4AX, England<p>

Dear Livia,

I wish Muggle post wasn't so slow; I have no idea what you've been up to recently! I've missed your letters, Livia, almost as much as I've missed you around the house. Has anything interesting been happening at your school lately? I hope your classes have been going well. Have you been making many friends?

The house has been less quiet than it has been; Astoria placed herself in charge of organising the Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball which is being hosted at the manor. Don't worry, though – I doubt you'll cross paths with her. At any rate, she does send her regards. (Don't feel compelled to send them back.)

After the function, did you want to invite Hugo Weasley over to stay a night or two? I'm afraid we can't have any of your Muggle friends over unless they already know about magic.

Before I forget, is there anything you'd like for Christmas?

I miss you and I'm looking forwards to seeing you again.

Much love,

Your father

* * *

><p><em>December 4, 2018<em>

Dear Miss Altar,

Please forgive my forwardness, but I was told to contact you by Astoria Greengrass. My name is Draco Malfoy, and I was wondering if I would be able to ask you a few questions about Titania Greengrass. I am under the impression that you were a close friend of hers. Please accept my condolences for her loss. If it is agreeable with you to talk, please reply as soon as you can.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy

* * *

><p><em>December 5, 2018<em>

Mr Malfoy,

Thanks for the letter. I'm fine to talk about Titania with you, but I can't promise answers to questions you'll ask. I'm away for Christmas and the New Year but I'll be back at the end of January. If you still want to talk then, send me another letter.

Jessica Altar

* * *

><p><em>December 7, 2018<em>

Mr Draco Malfoy  
>Malfoy Manor<br>Salisbury  
>Wiltshire SP5 5QG, UK<p>

Dear Daddy,

I've missed your letters too! Muggle Internet and email is very fast. Maybe we should get that instead?

I had a really exciting week! Our school had a visit from the Muggle Prime Minister! His name is Adam Young and he's always in the newspapers. He didn't talk about politics, though. He came to talk to us about setting goals and striving for the highest and making our own paths. He was a very good speaker! I think he'd be good in the magical world. Muggle Prime Ministers know about magic, don't they? They'd have to! I remember something from the _Daily Prophet_ about it. It'd be important for Magical-Muggle relations.

School's been going really well but I'm glad the term is almost over. I miss home an awful lot. Getting your letter made me very happy. Classes are still fun. Science is very challenging, but it's sort of the Muggle version of magic and very interesting.

Please tell Astoria I have received her regards.

Yes! Yes, please can we have Hugo over? I haven't seen him in a very long time and he hasn't come over to our house yet!

Can you please get me _The Lord of the Rings_ trilogy for Christmas? Or even _The Hobbit_. They should have it in Flourish & Blotts, in the Muggle literature section, but if they don't you can always come to Kent and visit a Muggle bookshop with me before we go home!

I'll see you very soon. I miss you too!

Love from Livia

* * *

><p><em>December 7, 2018<em>

Mr Draco Malfoy  
>Malfoy Manor<br>Salisbury  
>Wiltshire SP5 5QG, UK<p>

Dear Mr Malfoy,

This letter is to inform you of your daughter's progress since commencing the school year, and to advise you for the dates of the school holidays.

Livia's progress this term has been very pleasing. She was a little lost at first with the classwork, but my fellow teachers understand that she has been home-schooled her whole life and was therefore merely unused to school hours and structure. I am happy to say that she picked up quickly. Livia is a very bright young woman, and is very well read; she is excelling in History and English and Beginner's French. Over the holidays, I recommend she familiarise herself with works by playwrights Shakespeare, Arthur Miller, and Oscar Wilde, and the literature of J. R. R. Tolkien and Roald Dahl. I also recommend that she review her science classwork over the holidays, as science is her weakest subject; nevertheless, she is an enthusiastic learner.

Livia has made friends quickly and socialises well. She's quite the actress, but I suspect you already knew that.

We hope she is enjoying her time at Ravenswood College.

The official pick-up date for students returning home for the Christmas holidays is Friday December 14, between the hours of 8:30 am and 7:30 pm. We look forwards to seeing you then. Please be advised that the next school term commences on Tuesday January 8, 2019.

Yours sincerely,

Marian Halcombe  
>Deputy Head of the Department of EMPA<p>

PS: Normally these days email is commonplace for contacting parents of students; however, you left no email contact with the school. Is the Internet another thing you don't have, Lord Malfoy? It's been a while since I've had to hunt down a postage stamp!

* * *

><p><em>December 8, 2018<em>

Dear Dad,

Hope you've been well. Sorry I haven't written lately. I don't really have an excuse, because school's been pretty boring lately. I think Lysander's right – last year was more exciting, even if students were getting poisoned. But don't worry – I've been behaving, I promise. No detentions or anything! I did try out for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team and I made reserve Chaser. When Quentin Brackshott is sick for a match or leaves next year I'll take his place! Albus tried out for the team as well and made reserve Seeker, so next year he'll be competing against James and a lot of his Weasley cousins.

Rose thinks we're all insane, of course, but she's really good at flying. We tried to make her try out for the Gryffindor team but she says she has too much schoolwork to concentrate on. If you think I read too much, you haven't seen Rose. I swear she'll make herself sick from all those books sometimes. Lorcan doesn't care much for Quidditch.

I'm looking forwards to coming hope for Christmas this year. I miss Livia lots. I was wondering, could I invite Albus over sometime during the break? Lorcan and Lysander are going to Australia with their parents over the break.

Love,

Scorpius

* * *

><p><em>December 9, 2018<em>

Dear Scorpius,

I can't exactly fault you. Things at home have been quite dull without you and your sister, although I wouldn't go so far as to hope for another mass-drugging and student-poisoning plot. It's been a bit busier lately, though; your mother, regardless of our lack of marital status, tore every bit of organisational duty from me and is single-handedly pulling together the Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball. She sends her love to you.

Congratulations on making the Quidditch team! I'm sure you and Albus will be great next year, when you become the official Chaser and Seeker. Be careful on the pitch – it can get a bit brutal depending on who you're up against. My father, for instance, was always concerned for me when I took a fall or was knocked off my broom. (Although in hindsight I think he was more concerned about the family jewels than he was about me.) Perhaps you ought to wear glasses or tinted goggles to prevent yourself from going blind from all the red hair you'll inevitably see on the Gryffindor team.

I will ask Mr Potter about Albus coming over sometime over the December holidays. It will have to be after the Muggleborn Fund function, of course, but I'm sure something can be sorted out.

I'll pick you up from the Platform. It'll be good to have you and your sister home again for Christmas.

Love,

Your father

* * *

><p><em>December 10, 2018<em>

Dear Mr and Mrs Potter,

You are cordially invited to the 17th Annual Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball.

_Date:_ December 22, 2018

_Time:_ 6:30 p.m.

_Place:_ Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

Floo lines will be open and Portkeys will be made available. You may also arrive by Ministry or personal automobile transport. Please RSVP by December 15.

Merry Christmas, and we look forwards to seeing you on the night.

* * *

><p><em>December 10, 2018<em>

Dear Mr Weasley and Mrs Granger-Weasley,

You are cordially invited to the 17th Annual Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball.

_Date:_ December 22, 2018

_Time:_ 6:30 p.m.

_Place:_ Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

Floo lines will be open and Portkeys will be made available. You may also arrive by Ministry or personal automobile transport. Please RSVP by December 15.

Merry Christmas, and we look forwards to seeing you on the night.

* * *

><p><em>December 12, 2018<em>

Yo, Malfoy, Hermione and I are RSVPing for the Muggleborn Fund thing!

R. Weasley

* * *

><p><em>December 12, 2018<em>

Dear Mr Malfoy,

I apologise for my husband's less-than-formal letter. This is our official RSVP to the Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball on the night of December 22.

Yours sincerely,

Hermione Granger-Weasley

* * *

><p><em>December 13, 2018<em>

Malfoy,

Thought it might be easier to RSVP directly to you. Ginny and I are coming to the function.

H. Potter

PS: Cutting it a bit close though, aren't you?

* * *

><p><em>December 15, 2018<em>

Malfoy,

Do your kids need a sitter for the Muggleborn Fund night? If so, I've got Teddy Lupin and Victoire Weasley to keep an eye on my kids and Ron's and Hermione's kids already. Teddy and Victoire are happy enough to watch Scorpius and Livia as well.

H. Potter

PS: Hey, could you sneak me some chocolate on the 22nd? Ginny's got me on some horrible low-cholestrol, no-sugar diet and Hermione has forbidden Ron from giving me ice cream.

* * *

><p><em>December 16, 2018<em>

Potter,

I am dubious about the ability of a twenty-year-old man and his girlfriend to watch over seven children for a night; however, one of them is a Weasley and undoubtedly has experience in catering to the needs of an obscene number of offspring. Generations of practice and all that. I thank them for the offer and accept. What are their hourly rates?

D. Malfoy

PS: You realise the position you've put me in, Potter? I could either stand idly by and laugh at your misfortune, or I could take pity on you and feed you the cheapest and most awful chocolate possible, knowing full well you wouldn't be able to resist it because you're so desperate.

* * *

><p><em>December 17, 2018<em>

Malfoy,

I hope you know what you've done. Teddy saw your letter first and is now demanding 20 galleons an hour! You've no-one to blame but yourself. (For the record, I blame you too!)

H. Potter

PS: You know, I _used_ to wonder why the Hat put you in Slytherin. You never seemed particularly cunning in school. Making up for lost time or something?

* * *

><p><em>December 18, 2018<em>

Potter,

Well, I wasn't about to make him look after my children for a night for free. Do you mean to tell me you have been using him as cheap labour all these years? Whether you or I like it or not, Mister Lupin is a cousin of mine on my mother's side – no respectable Black descendent should be forced to work as a House Elf.

Oh, wait, even the House Elves get wages now, don't they? Shame on you.

D. Malfoy

PS: Me, cunning? You flatter me, Potter.

PPS: Astoria has informed me there is chocolate fondue on the dessert menu.

* * *

><p><em>December 19, 2018<em>

Malfoy,

His payment was in the form of learning responsibility and getting emotional and spiritual fulfilment from spending quality time with children. Now he's decided to start charging money. I despair for his future. If he ends up becoming a corrupt money-hungry, greedy capitalist in a suit with some high Ministry position, it's all your fault. Anyway, you can drop off Livia and Scorpius any time in the afternoon of the 22nd. Teddy and Victoire will handle dinner for the kids.

H. Potter

PS: Yeah, I can see you blushing from here.

PPS: Would you be offended if I declared undying love for your bigoted bitch of an ex-wife?

* * *

><p><em>December 20, 2018<em>

Dear Draco

Well, I hope you appreciate all my work on the function. You just _had_ to leave it all to the last minute, didn't you? I've been working all month to get this set up. Don't you dare complain about any of it, because if you do I swear I'll hex your balls off. I know you're not using them.

I'm just writing to let you know that I won't be there, but you can Floo me if anything goes wrong. Are Scorpius and Livia going to be there?

Astoria

* * *

><p><em>December 21, 2018<em>

Dear Astoria,

Thank you for organising the function. As I live in futile hope that I might get to use my balls again one day, there are no complaints from me.

The kids are staying at the Potters' house for the night of the function. Come along tomorrow. You organised the thing, so you should at least be there for it. Pantera will be there as well, so it might be a good idea to talk about the cases together.

Draco


	7. from the journal of draco malfoy V

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

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><p><strong>Draco Malfoy and the Perils of Dating<strong>

seven

_from the journal of Draco Malfoy, continued_

_December 14, 2018_

I picked Livia up early this morning, to give me time to get to the station for Scorpius. Nothing particularly eventful happened (thank goodness; I'm busy enough as it is). Miss Halcombe was waiting with Livia and some of the other girls.

"Good morning, Lord Malfoy," she greeted. "I hope you received my letter without hassle."

"Oh, uh, no, it's just 'Mr'. Mr Malfoy is fine," I said. "And I did, thank you. I apologise for making you hunt for a postage stamp."

"No, it's fine. We're very dedicated here at Ravenswood," she added with a grin. She then looked over my shoulder, behind me, and seemed to bite back a smile. "You've quite the crowd of admirers," she said in a low tone.

"What?" I glanced over to where she gestured and found a group of mothers (presumably single), with their daughters, tittering and watching me.

"That's Livia's dad, Livia says he's divorced –" one of the girls said, a bit too audibly. Her mother covered her mouth and whispered something to some of the others, and then winked at me. Another waved and eyed me up. I'm sure I was flushing when I turned back to Miss Halcombe, who was entirely far too amused for the situation.

"Perhaps you should go over and talk to them," Miss Halcombe teased.

I rubbed my temple. "You're enjoying this."

She spared me a moment of amusement before changing the tone. "On a slightly more serious note, Mr Malfoy, I couldn't help but notice over this term that Livia seemed to be quite unfamiliar with common household items." She raised her eyebrows. "Do you not own a television? Or have the Internet, or own common kitchen appliances?"

"We have a toaster," I said weakly, and slapped together a lie. I'm good at thinking on my feet. "We're – uh – we're working on getting more technology installed. The house I live in is very old and doesn't support a lot of technology. My parents were a bit backwards, shall we say –" Technically _not_ a lie. "– and it's only recently I've been able to get, uh, people in to assess the safety of the house and whether or not it'll be able to support a television and Internet."

I've been doing some reading. I know what those are now.

Miss Halcome just watched me silently with this strange half-smile.

"So, uh, we're waiting on that," I added, extraordinarily lamely.

She just continued to silently gaze at me in this semi-amused way.

"…You don't believe me, do you."

"Not in the slightest, Mr Malfoy," she replied, but she was smiling which I suppose is a good thing. I've heard Muggles can get quite jumpy about anything seeming out of the ordinary and scream for their own Aurors. Miss Halcombe didn't seem to be trigger-happy or too concerned, which meant I didn't have to Obliviate her (which would have been a shame, to mess around with a mind like hers). If anything, she seemed almost charmed by my ineptitude, as opposed to being charmed by Livia's acting talents which is usually the case.

Sharp, is Marian Halcombe. I may have to end up installing Muggle technology into the Manor so that Livia is less conspicuous over the next years.

Before Livia and I departed – in another Ministry car, because the Muggles would certainly notice if I pulled out a Portkey – Miss Halcombe bid her farewell then said to me, "You know, I didn't think people like you existed anymore."

"Luddites? Oh, we're everywhere."

"I suppose you all attend Luddites Anonymous on a monthly basis."

"Something like that."

She smiled and bid Livia and I farewell. She has a nice smile. Presumably I'll see Miss Halcombe again next month when I drop Livia off for the next school term.

I did end up checking Flourish & Blotts for the books Livia wanted, and they did have them, but I thought it would be nicer to take Livia to a Muggle bookshop in Kent. See, I'm learning. They have very strange books and I'll still never get over the fact that the pictures in the books don't move. But I suppose Muggles have other pictures that move, like their televisions and Internet. Livia calls it "you tube", which I still don't exactly understand, but she seems to know what she's talking about which is what counts, I suppose.

Anyway, the bookshop. As Miss Halcombe suggested, I bought Livia the books by Tolkien and Roald Dahl, and couple of plays by the playwrights she talked about in her letter. They look interesting, actually; I might read over them if I ever have the time.

I also gave her a copy of _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ that I picked up a couple of weeks ago – the new revised/translated version with notes from Dumbledore before his death. Father forbade me from reading them when I was younger, and I can see why now: according the notes, father attempted to ban _The Fountain of Fair Fortune_ for depicting "interbreeding between wizards and Muggles". To which Dumbledore apparently replied that there is not a witch or wizard in existence whose blood has not mingled with that of Muggles.

And that… might sort of make sense. A bit. How else could Livia be non-magical? I know better now than to suggest that Muggleborns 'steal' magic from Purebloods. There was a theory that Squibs who embraced the Muggle world eventually had great-grandchildren who were magical, because the magical gene carried down the generations. Can the opposite be possible – a non-magical gene carrying down generations? Livia tells me that Muggles are very advanced when it comes to understanding genetics, something about dominant and recessive genes. It may be worth looking into, if I ever have the time.

The bookshop also had some books on Muggle aircraft. Not that I bought any, that is. I'm merely recording it here as a matter of vague interest.

Things to do:

1. File articles Astoria sent me / make copies (draw connection?)  
>2. Attempt to help with Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball preparations<br>3. Keep children away from Astoria  
>4. Find a sitter for the kids on the function night<br>5. Make Pantera do something useful somehow

_Case notes:_

– Identify suspects from SWWSDA  
>– Set a date to meet Jessica Altar<br>– Contact Catherine Nightingale  
>– Find out if there is a January SWWSDA meeting<p>

* * *

><p><em>December 22, 2018<em>

Well, the kids are off at the Potters' and I'm waiting for the first of the guests to show up. Astoria is, as usual, having her last-minute panic attack before a large function. I keep telling her everything is fine and that she's done a lovely job (and she really has; the place looks amazing) but she's not listening.

Now, the Potters. When I got there with my over-excited children in tow, I had to knock on the door three times before anyone came. I suspect it was merely because they didn't hear; the house sounded like another Wizarding World War had erupted. Potter opened the door, exposing me to a lot of yelling and a lot of red hair.

"Hi," he said distractedly and very out of breath. His hairline is receding as well, now. Ha.

"Good afternoon," I'd said, the same time Livia and Scorpius said, "Hi, Mr Potter!"

"Er, please come in –" he said, and that was the last I saw of my children for the evening. Potter rubbed the back of his neck. "Er. Wanna come in?"

"Just for a moment. I have to get back to the Manor. But thanks. And, uh," I peered over his shoulder and caught a quick flash of Livia's platinum-blonde hair and Hugo Weasley's shocking red hair as they ran amok through the house, "thanks for taking my children."

"Don't thank me. Thank Teddy if he's still alive by the end of tonight." A small explosion rocked the house. Potter sighed and pressed is forehead against the doorframe. "Teddy," he called out behind him in a long-suffering tone, "can you please go make sure Albus is still alive?"

Teddy from the depths of the house yelled something about stopping James from releasing a bludger in the kitchen, and Potter groaned. Suddenly, I was somewhat dubious about leaving my children there. (Speaking of Teddy Lupin: I am now 160 Galleons lighter than I was this morning. I sincerely hope his babysitting skills are up to scratch, relative or not.)

I had my eyebrows raised. "Really, Potter?"

"It was the compromise," he explained, closing the door behind me. "Albus doesn't get detention for a term, and he gets to play with potions."

"Was that… wise?"

"He's become a very convincing debater of late. I blame your son."

Oh, the pride. There was another small explosion and I looked up warily. "Um. I hope your son doesn't have anything deadly up there."

Potter snorted. "With a middle name of Severus? Don't bet on it."

I refrained from mentioning that he brought it upon himself, in that case. Potter excused himself to charge upstairs where, alarmingly, smoke had started pouring _down_ from. I really didn't want to know how. And then I had to duck a bludger.

Needless to say, my children fell in love at first sight. My ability to ever extract them from the Potter House of Horrors will be tested in the next few days, I'm certain.

_Later (7:20 pm)_

Well, so far so good. I'm hiding in the guest bathroom right now, with my journal. Don't judge me, damn it. I just need a bit of a breather. Yeah, fifty minutes in. Endurance: I have it.

Weasley and Granger were amongst the first to arrive. Unsurprising, as Granger is one of the other Muggleborn Fund benefactors.

"Hey, Malfoy, 'sup!" Weasley said, and Granger looked highly unimpressed by her husband's attempt at teenage jargon.

"The place looks lovely, Draco," Granger said politely. I knew what she was really saying: it doesn't look anything like it did all those years ago. I nodded in thanks.

"I can't take the credit, I'm afraid. Astoria did most of the decorations."

Granger raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I heard from Ron that you and she were working together. Are you sure that's, well, a good idea?"

Well, no. I'm not sure it's a good idea, but I said, "It's just for Titania's death and the function," anyway. More people started arriving by this stage and I didn't want anyone to seize the chance to paste my personal life all over the _Daily Prophet_. I ended the conversation with, "I'll explain a bit more later. If you would care for some champagne and an entrée, please help yourself."

Weasley looked like he dearly wanted to interrogate me. That man lives and breathes for gossip, I swear. Thankfully Granger, bless her good sense, dragged her husband away to get some food into him and let me greet the rest of the guests. I didn't know half of them, I swear, but most were benefactors and their family and friends, and a few Ministry people, including Shacklebolt, Fallone, and the Zabinis.

Also, Potter is now (sort of) in my debt.

Potter and Ginny arrived a little later than others, looking slightly worse for wear. "Mrs Potter," I said to Mrs Potter when she turned her back on Potter who promptly seized the chance to dive to the food table.

"Malfoy," she replied.

I haven't had much of a real chance to talk to Ginny Potter. There was Potter's birthday party, which was… cautiously fun. Aside from the occasional run-in, though, we haven't had much to do with each other. There was that awkward conversation at the party (although honestly, I think we were both a bit drunk) – "You, _Draco Malfoy_, are more like a cat. A small, bad-tempered house cat!"

I'm not quite sure how she got to that, but I suppose it must have made sense at the time (to her, at least). I do remember she mentioned something about leopards and not changing their spots before it, though.

"How is your Quidditch season going?" I said.

I confess, I've always had a bit of a soft spot for red-haired women. _Women_, mind. I have no such 'soft spot' for Ronald Weasley – I maintain he sticks out like a sore thumb and if I look at him for too long he'll make my eyes bleed. I've always sort of been fond of red-haired women, even though all shades of the colour clash with the Manor's décor: one such lady gave me a vanilla ice cream when I was lost in Diagon Alley at the age of five. I must have been crying, because I remember she also gave me her handkerchief. Father found me, of course, and made me throw the cone and handkerchief away while shouting about not taking things from strangers, but still.

Mrs Potter launched into a description of her team and the competition for the year while pretending to not notice Potter grabbing a profiterole from the table. He held a napkin up to his face as he stuffed the innocent pastry into his mouth. Mrs Potter saw me glancing at her husband over her shoulder and smirked.

"He's made it three weeks," she said in a lowered voice. "I think he's learned his lesson."

I raised my eyebrows. "I thought the 'low-cholesterol, no-sugar' diet thing was a bit odd," I contemplated, just as she pulled out a small chocolate from her pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth. "Dare I ask what he did?"

She gave me an all-too-innocent look. "Why, Mr Malfoy, no-one did anything. I just thought it was important for him to be extra healthy for a couple of weeks."

I wrote a couple of months ago that I didn't think redheads were capable of pulling off an evil grin. I hereby retract that statement.

"Oh, and call me Ginny," Mrs Potter added firmly as she continued to ignore her husband wiping chocolate from around his mouth behind her. I think it's true what they say: wives and mothers have eyes in the backs of their heads. "If my son and niece and nephew are all BFFs with your spawn, I think it's high time I got to call you Bleach. Or Slick. How about Gel?"

"'Recede' will suffice."

She grinned. Although I feel compelled to mention, it was more of a 'let's play' kind of grin than a genuine 'you're a decent fellow, Malfoy' kind of grin. Behind her back, Potter clasped his hands together and mouthed _I LOVE YOU_ in my direction. Honestly, I can't figure out which one of us he's in love with more: Ginny, my bigoted bitch of an ex-wife, or me.

Still, it was flattering.

_Later again (8:30 pm)_

I really should know better by now not to tempt fate. I mean, yes, it was going pretty well: I got two hours into the function without drama (a record) before getting a glass of champagne thrown in my face for my troubles.

"Death Eater! Murderer! You should be rotting in Azkaban, you fascist!"

You know, the usual. I do wish these people would come up with something more original sometimes, though.

Potter had some of his plain-clothes Aurors (Pantera, who I invited out of courtesy, and some other woman) drag the man out. Don't even know the name of the guy. I suppose he must have been someone I insulted when I was a teenager, or someone whose family was horribly traumatised by the Death Eaters and/or my father. It's okay. I've gotten used to it.

So now I'm hiding in the guest bathroom with a clean set of formal robes. And with my journal, because I'm obsessive that way.

I don't really want to go back out.

_Later again (9:45 pm)_

Something… really weird just happened to me. Not in the bad sense, just weird in the _not expecting that at all_ sense. About twenty minutes ago. This lady came up to – don't even know who she was, but presumably I wrote her name on an invitation Astoria shoved at me – and said, "Excuse me, Mr Malfoy?"

"Yes?" I said cautiously. I noticed she was holding a glass of champagne tightly and I reflexively flinched, expecting her to throw it in my face. She didn't, although I sort of wish she had because then I'd have known how to react. Practice, you know.

She hugged me instead.

Seriously. She threw her arms around me and gave a loud sob. I sort of froze up, but I don't think she noticed that. "Er," I said, because I've been taking English lessons from Weasley.

"I – I just wanted to thank you, Mr Malfoy – thank you so much." She drew back and blew her nose on a handkerchief. "I read all about it in the_Prophet_ and _Quibbler_– your daughter, Livia. I can't begin to tell you how grateful I am to you."

"I –"

"My son, Jeremy – we found out he was non-magical a year ago. M-my husband left me and I didn't know what I'd do, but then I read all about you and your daughter and you gave me so much hope…"

"You're… welcome?" Thirty-plus years of public speaking training, right there.

She hugged me one more time and disappeared back into the crowd. I remember blinking and gaping after her, not sure what to say or do. Potter wasn't being of any help, the useless slob: he just smiled at me sagely and clapped a hand to my shoulder.

I had to make another escape to the guest bathroom. It's possible by this stage my guests think I have some sort of gastric problem but… I really need to be alone for a moment. I'm not shaking, but I am sort of… rattled. In a good way. I think. I guess it's just been a really long time since anyone, particularly a stranger, sincerely, honestly thanked me.

I mean, I knew I was doing something completely different (dare I say revolutionary?) with Livia. Making sure the magical world knows I, a Pureblood, accept and love my non-magical daughter and will stop at nothing to ensure she has a future in our world. I never stopped to think about other families with non-magical children. I guess… yeah, I guess I am helping them, however indirectly.

Huh.

_Later again (11:50 pm)_

I don't even really have words. I'm so tired.

It was going really well. Honestly, it was. I was in the middle of telling a joke to some people I'd never met before (they seemed to be enjoying it, though) at around 11:00 pm. You know that thing where if something can go wrong, it _will_ go wrong? Yeah, that more or less happened. There was this high-pitched, hysterical scream and everyone stopped what they were doing. At first I thought it was a woman screaming, but it was actually a man, yelling and pointing.

_"He's bleeding! Oh my god, someone help him –"_

This young man, about mid-twenties I'd wager, staggered. It didn't even look real; I saw red everywhere and thought, _oh, he fell in the punch_, which was stupid because I knew what the punch looked like and it did not look like blood. The man collapsed to the marble floor in a pool of his own blood, convulsed, and went still.

And then everyone started screaming.

I know dead when I see it. That man was well and truly gone by that stage. A woman had dropped beside him to try and resuscitate him, and Weasley had to step forwards and pull her away, murmuring to her. She started wailing.

Potter touched his wand to his throat. "Everyone, please, _keep calm_!"

There are only so many times in my life I can say I was relieved to hear Potter's Sonoroused voice booming. That's one of the good things of being friends – well, being semi-non-antagonistic-parents-of-children-who-are-friends – with Harry Potter: people listen to him. The screamed died down almost immediately, and only a few choking sobs punctuated the deathly silence. He called for order again, for people not to panic, and to move away from the deceased and remain in the manor. He sent a Patronus to the Ministry to call for backup. Aurors quickly flooded my house, ushering everyone into adjacent rooms for questioning. It all happened very quickly. Felt like it, anyway. I mostly stood there uselessly as Pantera, Weasley, and two other Aurors I didn't remember inviting knelt beside the body.

"You know him?" I remember asking, and Potter nodded.

"This is Jonathan Cavalier."

I vaguely remember writing his name on a letter Astoria shoved at me.

Potter met my gaze. "Benedict Cavalier's son – you gave me that name. He has – had," Potter corrected, looking at the corpse with remorse, "known Death Eater ties. But identification isn't the issue. It's who gets to take the case."

"Please tell me you don't draw straws," I really wanted to say. I didn't, because Pantera heard Potter talking and stood up to face us.

"This is a non-magical crime," Pantera said, sounding like a child who didn't get a present on Christmas. Which is ridiculous, because I think he has plenty of work _already_. "Look at him! He was stabbed – no magic at all! That puts it in _my_ jurisdiction."

"Normally, yes," Potter said calmly, "but I have reason to believe that Mister Cavalier's death has FD ties, which puts it in my jurisdiction, Auror Pantera."

Pantera crossed his arms. "You got proof?" He was such a tart.

Potter was not impressed by his attitude. "If I don't find it in the next couple of weeks, I'll turn it over to you. Besides, you're busy with your serial killer. I think that's what you need to concentrate on right now."

"Easier said than done, sir," Pantera said, glancing at me. "We're at something of a standstill. The only lead I have is the speed dating agency, and it's not turning up much."

It's none of our faults, really. Astoria and I have been busy with the (now ruined) function, and Pantera has been doing what Pantera does best: being obnoxious. There's nothing subtle about him at all. If I think Weasley sticks out like a sore thumb, he's got nothing on Ignatius. I mean, it's no wonder he hasn't found anyone yet. It is _so_ typical of the Aurors to shove their most useless member into the department that never gets used. And then when it actually has something to after, the department's completely incompetent. As soon as Scorpius and Livia go back to school, I have no doubt Astoria is going to drag me straight back into this headfirst.

With luck, she'll whip Pantera into shape while she's at it.

After the last of the guests were cleared out to the Ministry – presumably for interviews – Potter grabbed a statement from me and ushered me into the next room. "Look, the Manor is a crime scene," he said. "I'm going to be here all night with some Aurors." He rubbed his eyes again, looking very tired. "Don't worry about Scorpius and Livia. They can stay at my place for the entire night."

Which was very nice of him, except that I didn't have anywhere to go, and I wasn't about to ask to crash at Potter's or Weasley's place.

"You can stay with me, if you want." I looked around and saw Astoria behind me, hugging herself and looking very lost. I recognised the tone – she didn't want to be alone. More selfishness. But it wasn't as though I could be mad at her. I didn't want to be alone either.

"All right."

So we Apparated after Potter gave us leave (while also giving me a completely justified very odd look), and I'm at Astoria's apartment in Dorset. It's a nice little place, if a bit small, but she's _graciously_ allowed me to have the couch for one night. The unspoken rule between is that we just don't mention the kids. She won't ask about them, I won't glare and get hissy at her. The kids, especially Livia, are no longer her concern, just as she is no longer Livia's concern. The only reason we're being civil is because of Titania.

Thing is –

_[journal entry interrupted; incomplete]_

* * *

><p><em>December 23, 2018<em>

I really should have listened to Weasley.

Seriously. I'm screwed. Figuratively _and_ literally.

I heard Astoria crying last night. Not fake attention-seeking crying, but an actual, emotional sob. I know what those sound like. So I went into her bedroom to see her.

"Are you okay?"

"N-no," she said. "I'm a horrible person."

I didn't say anything, which was probably a better move than me saying, "Well, yeah." I don't think that would have helped anything.

She sobbed some more into a handkerchief. "I'm not even upset someone died, Draco – I'm upset because the _function_ was ruined. All that work I put into it, and it turns into a _crime scene_!" She wept some more.

"That was really inconsiderate of the victim, wasn't it."

"Piss off, Draco!"

Except I didn't piss off, because she cried some more and I sat next to her on the bed and hugged her, and then realised it wasn't about the function at all, or about Krum or Titania or the kids. She was lonely. Really lonely. And upset and shaken and all that usual stuff that people are supposed to feel after really long, taxing days and seeing people die.

And, er. So was I?

Which is the lamest excuse ever. I mean, _Merlin's saggy left testicle_. What kind of messed up loser sleeps with their ex-wife? Besides me?

I'm so pathetic.

Should have listened to Weasley. I mean, it figures, right? I woke up this morning and she was gone. Didn't leave a note or anything. Frankly, it was the best sex we've had in years, but really, would a "Thanks for the fuck, Draco, now don't come back," be too much to ask for? That, at least, I could have understood. Now it's vague between us. I don't like vague.

I guess I'd better go and pick up my kids before they and the Potter/Weasley and Weasley/Granger spawn destroy the village. Potter should be finished at the Manor by now.

* * *

><p><em>25 December, 2018<em>

Today, at least, passed without hassle. Sort of. Potter invited the kids and me over to his place for Christmas dinner, which was exceedingly nice of him. (I mentioned that I was planning on inviting them over to the Manor during the break, but the murder halted that. Potter took pity on me.) I think I'm something of a pet to Potter, Weasley, and Granger. They've _all_ adopted me. Which is nothing short of mortifying. At least I get free food out of it.

Livia and Scorpius were more than happy, of course. They've taken a liking for Potter's House of Death, Doom and Destruction.

"How've you been going with the Jonathan Cavalier murder?" I asked Potter when we had a moment alone.

"Not well."

"Suspects?"

"Some from the charity, and we've been given permission by the Ministry to use Veritaserum. So far, nothing's come up." Potter looked like he hadn't slept for the past couple of nights. He hid a yawn. "Not even a murder weapon has turned up yet. No-one left the crime scene, which means one of the party guests was definitely the murderer."

"There were about a hundred people there, Potter."

"I know." He groaned and cracked his shoulders. "And of course there's no connection with FD. I might have to turn the case over to Pantera after all."

"He's useless, Potter."

"I _know_. Look, I _want_ to expand the department, but there are only so many people willing to get involved in non-magical crimes."

"If you give him Cavalier's case, he's going to drop Titania's."

"You're working on it, aren't you?"

Well, yes, but it's nice to have official ties. And then I realised Potter was silently giving _me_ permission to take the reins.

The shit I get myself into. I shouldn't be allowed to leave the house, ever.

The kids played nicely together while I helped Ginny in the kitchen. Tried to help, anyway. She wouldn't let me touch the food (even though I _have _been getting better with cooking lately). She didn't believe me when I said that, though. I think women just default to Control Freak mode when men try to get involved. But she did let me help set the table.

"Shame about the party," Weasley said over dinner. "I was having fun."

"Astoria was very upset about what happened," I murmured. Which wasn't a lie – she _was_ upset about the function being ruined.

"What is with her, anyway?" Ginny Potter demanded, brandishing a fork at me. "I thought you hated her!"

"That's what I said," Weasley added.

"She isn't making things difficult for Livia, is she?" Granger asked.

I remember clearing my throat and avoiding eye contact with them. "I'm just working with her to find Titania's killer," I said, extremely convincingly. "She hasn't had any contact with Livia since last year. And ever since Krum left her, she's been lonely, and… she's not _evil_, she's just not very nice. And lonely."

There was a short pause. "You slept with her, didn't you," Weasley said, and Potter choked on his wine. I sat there and spluttered like the stupid idiot I am.

"Um," I said.

Weasley groaned. "Malfoy, you _idiot_."

For once, I completely agreed with him.

"Draco, what about Livia?" Granger said. "Astoria disowned her."

I held up my hands. "Look. Astoria Greengrass was a woman I married for convenience, not love, a long time ago. She is a horrible, selfish person and just isn't a good mother. If it ever comes down to it, I will always choose my children. Right now, though, she's more of a… I don't know, an acquaintance. Someone I'm helping out." I sighed. "The kids don't know, and I'd like it to stay that way."

"You are _so_ messed up," Weasley announced, like it was a new revelation or something.

Ginny poured me some more wine. I really did need it.


	8. from the journal of draco malfoy VI

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

><p><strong>Draco Malfoy and the Perils of Dating<strong>

eight

_from the journal of Draco Malfoy, continued_

_January 10, 2019_

Well, I saw both of my kids off to their respective schools again today and already I miss them, but I'm not struck by that overwhelming boredom I was in September last year. Scorpius was first, as usual. Another last-minute rush occurred this morning but I'm getting better at it, I think.

"Have another safe term, all right?" I told Scorpius before he was due to get on the train. I don't think he was too happy at being dragged away from Albus and Rose for me to do my Fatherly Speech Thing, because he rolled his eyes. I think he's going through that stage in his life where he just doesn't want parental advice anymore.

"_Okay_, Dad. Stop embarrassing me! I'll be good."

"And don't forget to write!"

"All right!"

He let me hug him, at least. I doubt I'll be able to do that again for a few years though, now that he considers himself a teenager. He considers himself too old for Dad's hugs, I guess. At least Livia is still receptive. After we dropped Scorpius off at the platform and saw him onto the Hogwarts Express, we took another Ministry car. It was in the afternoon by the time we got to Pembury, but boarding girls were still arriving and Miss Halcombe was there.

"Hello again, Mr Malfoy," she said after greeting Livia and welcoming her back. "How was your Christmas?"

"Primitive," I quipped, earning a grin from her.

"Ah, a Christmas Luddites Anonymous gathering. Did you enjoy it?"

"I did. We sat around in rocking chairs and talked about horse-drawn carriages. None of this _car_ nonsense…"

"Is that so?" she said. "Well, Mr Malfoy, the next time you come to pick Livia up I fully expect you to arrive in a horse-drawn carriage. I'll be very disappointed if you don't!"

I laughed, but I'm actually half considering it.

"In all seriousness, though, Christmas was quite eventful." Which is one way of putting it, I guess. I wasn't about to tell her that my house had become a crime scene, because there's no way I'd be able to go into that without explaining why it didn't make Muggle newspapers, etc etc. And I _certainly_ didn't tell her that I was vaguely getting along with my ex-wife who I haven't seen since I slept with her after said house-turning-into-crime-scene-thing. "How was yours?"

"Quiet," she said, "but peaceful. It's good to get back into work, actually. I tend to get quite bored over the holidays."

I can relate.

On another semi-related note, I've entertained the idea of buying a house in Muggle Kent, for conveniences's sake. Muggle technology is _not _going to work in the Manor; there's too much magical interference. With a Muggle house, with the Floo connected to the Manor, Livia could have a home in both worlds, close to her school and with the Muggle things she needs. And Scorpius has been disturbingly enthusiastic about it all as well, so, I don't know. Internet and television and the like. I don't pretend to understand a word of what my kids say half the time, but apparently some wizarding households are trying to adapt to Muggle technology as well. Imagine the absolute stir I'd make if I did buy a house in the Muggle world.

There I go, planning controversies again. I think I'm an addict.

(But it's just something to think about, nothing concrete.)

When I finally got home, Astoria was waiting for me. It was the first time I've seen her since we slept together, so of course I stood there stupidly for a couple of seconds to register her presence and pull out that speech I'd been mentally rehearsing.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," I said as well.

She bit her lip. "Draco –"

"Stop, Astoria." I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose and started to recite (and mangle) my speech. "Look, the other night… I'm sure we both weren't, uh, exactly thinking straight. I mean, it was nice and all, but it, it isn't going to happen again. All right? We cut ties like that a long time ago – before you left me, and definitely before you disowned my daughter. I won't do it to the kids."

At least I finished on a strong note. Astoria wore her unimpressed and upset face, which consisted of her pinching her lips and looking pale. "Fine," she said stiffly. "It wasn't that good, anyway."

Ouch. "Well, it was your fault for having high expectations. I am a bit out of practice."

That, at least, made us both smile. Anyway, I invited her in properly.

"You'd have dropped Livia off at her school today," she said.

"I did," I said warily.

She averted her gaze, trying to look disinterested. "Good school?"

"The best," I said, and she nodded and didn't say anything else.

I don't _want_ to be hostile to Astoria, but it's hard to keep myself in check. This isn't the first time she's asked about Livia since disowning her. I'm starting to think that maybe… maybe she's regretting it, almost? I don't know. I won't pretend to know how Astoria's mind works.

"Are you hungry?" I asked. "I'll cook something. House Elves have the day off."

She raised an eyebrow. "You can't cook, Draco."

"Want to bet?" I said. Actually, I didn't say that because I'm not Weasley who pretends he's still a teenager. I made an omelette and it turned out beautifully, if I do say so myself. Ha.

* * *

><p><em>January 28, 2019<em>

Well, I finally managed to arrange a meeting with Jessica Altar, Titania's friend from school. Jessica Altar is a nice woman, if a bit plain. She let me in (I didn't go with Astoria today) and we exchanged a few pleasantries before getting down to business.

"I'd like to ask a few questions about Titania, if that's okay."

"If it wasn't, I wouldn't have invited you," she replied.

"Did she have any enemies?"

"Not that I knew of. People loved her."

She told me to take a seat while she made tea. I sat there with a pad of paper (that I'd picked up from the bookshop in Muggle Kent) and a pen (because those things are_ridiculously_ useful), looking like some amateur journalist. When Altar came back with two cups of tea, I asked, "Has Auror Pantera spoken to you prior to this?"

"Pantera?" Her forehead creased into a frown.

"The Auror in charge of Titania's case," I elaborated.

"Pantera," she murmured. "No, he hasn't."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course not."

"Will he be coming by?"

"I doubt it. I presume he'll be busy with the Cavalier murder."

"I read about that in the _Prophet_. Poor Jonathan."

I looked up at her, startled. "You knew Cavalier?"

She handed me a cup of tea. "Well, yes, I went to Hogwarts with him. He was in the year above me. I didn't know him _well_, of course, but he was in my House. Slytherin." She sat down on the sofa across from me and bit her lip. "It's sad. People you knew being murdered. Felicity, Titania, now Jonathan…"

"Felicity… Foulton?" I guessed, and she nodded, lips tightening. "You knew her from school?"

"Felicity was in the year above me as well. Nice girl. She and Titania dragged me out to that speed-dating thing about a year ago. I only went once, and that was… well, the last time I saw Felicity." She had to pull out a handkerchief and wipe her eyes, which were filling with tears. "I'm sorry. It's just really hard to talk about them."

I put my teacup aside. (Not that I'd had much to drink – I don't know where Jessica Altar has been, but that was _not_ tea. It tasted like tar. How is it possible to screw tea up like that?) "Miss Altar," I said, "Auror Pantera and I believe that Felicity's and Titania's murders are related, along with another three women. Would you please look at this list of names and tell me if you recognise any of them?"

She nodded and I passed out the parchment with eight names on it.

_Felicity Foulton (29)_

_Arianna Desiree (26)_

_Honoria Heston (26)_

_Madison Levy (27)_

_Titania Greengrass (28)_

_Jackson Mills (27)_

_Harvey Kissinger (27)_

_Michael Fitzsimons (29)_

The last three names were Astoria's find, from going through old _Daily Prophet_ articles. Jackson Mills died in May, mugged after a potions conference. I don't know if Pantera took the case because there was no mention of him, but Mills's death was passed off as a robbery gone wrong. Harvey Kissinger was found dead in his home, shot by a Muggle handgun, in July. And Michael Fitzsimons dropped dead in Hogsmeade in October – medical examination revealed cyanide poisoning as cause of death. That last one is very dubiously on the list, though – cyanide is ridiculously old fashioned and I'm not sure if it can be classified as a magical or non-magical crime. The Aurors weren't sure either – the magical crimes unit took it and classified it as suicide.

Jessica Altar examined the list of names for a few moments and said, "Well… Michael Fitzsimons was in the year above me at school. The other names sort of look familiar but I didn't know any of them."

"Michael Fitzsimons died in October last year. He was poisoned."

"Was it murder?"

"The Aurors ruled it out as suicide."

"Michael Fitzsimons, suicide?" She shook her head. "I can't believe it."

"I'm sorry to be the one to break it to you –"

"No, I mean, I can't believe he'd ever commit suicide. He was so… confident all the time. So dominating. Walked around the school like he owned the place. Him and Jonathan. Just… doesn't seem the type to kill himself."

_Cavalier_ and Fitzsimons? One stabbed and the other poisoned within months of each other? That couldn't be a coincidence. I wrote that down to tell Potter. Sounds like it might be an FD thing, although there's nothing to suggest Fitzsimons was linked to FD other than his friendship with Cavalier, according to Altar. "Is there anything else you can think of, Miss Altar? Anything at all?"

She shook her head. "No, nothing."

"Did you meet anyone at the speed-dating you recognised?"

"It was a year ago, Mr Malfoy. I barely remember," she said apologetically. I left shortly after that, leaving her with my address to owl me if she thought of anything else. She also gave me Catherine Nightingale's address so that I could send her a letter. Miss Nightingale lives in Germany now, so a meeting is probably out of the question, but I'm hoping she'll be good enough to answer some questions.

So this all leaves me… a little bit further in? I do know one thing, though – I think Pantera was on the right track when he targeted the speed dating as the main link between the women. It doesn't explain Madison Levy and Arianna Desiree yet, or the male murders (if they're even related), but it does mean that I'm going to have to go back to SWWSDA – this time to investigate. (Urgh.)

I can't talk to the men – they already know my face. But Astoria might be useful to bring along – she can pry things out of them I won't be able to.

* * *

><p><em>February 16, 2019<em>

Well, tonight was the speed dating session. Pantera wasn't with us tonight; he told us last week he wouldn't be there.

"I can't make it." I remember he'd puffed agitatedly on his cigarette. "It's my mother. She's sick and I have to visit her. She's in the US, you see."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I'd said.

"S'all right. She's a tough old cookie, she'll be fine. Listen," he suddenly said, "what are you going to do about the case while I'm gone?"

"I'll keep prying, I think. Never could resist sticking my nose in places it doesn't belong."

"Fine, just – be careful." Dare I say he actually looked concerned? "I don't need your deaths on my hands, all right? I already get enough goddamn shit from the rest of the Aurors. Those arseholes. It's as though they don't have anything better to do than bully the underdog." He scowled. "I bet they don't even know my name."

Well, it was nice to know he cared about my life for the sake of caring, at least… He smashed his cigarette into the ashtray and rifled around through one of his drawers, eventually pulling out a raggedy notebook with ink all over it. "These are my case files."

I eyed the thing dubiously. "How meticulous."

He ignored that and handed it to me. "Seriously, take them. Read them through and see if you can pick up anything I might have missed. Because knowing me, I've probably missed a whole damn lot."

"I'm sure you –"

"No, seriously. I know how bad I am at this job." He rubbed his forehead. "About seven years I've been here, and I think I've only solved about five crimes in that time. _Five_. The others have all just gone cold or turned over to 'real' departments. I'm a joke."

Astoria and I shared a glance and didn't say anything. He was probably expecting us to reassure him that he wasn't a joke, but I don't make it a habit to lie.

"How long are you going for?" Astoria said instead, paving over the sudden awkwardness of the situation.

"I'll be back around mid-March," he replied, looking very tired. "If you need to get in contact with me, just owl me or something."

I'm not a pitiless man. Pantera looked like he was ready to cry. "Take a break, Pantera," I advised, and took his ridiculous case notes. I'm sure there's something worthwhile in there, but it would sort of help if he wrote like a human being instead of an animal writing with a quill clenched between its teeth. No wonder he's at a standstill – he can't read what he writes, the idiot.

But back to the night. There's not really much to report. A few interesting things, but again, I just don't feel like I'm any closer to finding answers than I have been.

"But not all of the victims had connections to SWWSDA," I said to Astoria before the session started. I pronounce it as _swizda_, for convenience's sake, and I sound ridiculous. "So maybe the killer isn't a regular here. We could be wasting time."

"Maybe. Or maybe someone here saw something."

"Or maybe the murderer isn't even here tonight."

"Well, all of the regulars Pantera identified are here. Gardener, Fallone, Pierce-Hawkins, and a couple of others. The only one he's definitely ruled out is Wilson because the man has weak bones and muscles – some sort of genetic disease. He wouldn't be able to kill anyone with his bare hands."

So the session started, Astoria started rotating at the tables, and I talked to a lot of uninteresting, unmemorable people. (Thank Merlin Pansy wasn't there.) Finally Astoria made it to my table.

"Anything?" I murmured.

Astoria glanced at some of the regulars. "Not yet. Although…"

"What?"

"Joseph Gardener." She glanced over at him, a couple of tables to my left. I hadn't spoken to him before really, just sort of glared at each other from across the room. Sour looking man, probably early-thirties. His name is circled and underlined in Pantera's book three times. "He's a regular, been coming here more than a year. I… didn't like the way he looked at me."

I squeezed her hand. "You're out of the typical age-range. You should be fine."

She raised an eyebrow. "_Should_ being the keyword, there," she replied, but she did squeeze my hand back.

None of the women there today were younger than thirty-five, so with luck, a body won't turn up in Knockturn Alley tomorrow morning.

* * *

><p><em>February 28, 2019<em>

I went with Astoria to interrogate Vitus 'Fallone' today. I found his address in Pantera's book and went there in the morning. Imagine my surprise when I bumped (figuratively) into Potter on our way to his front door.

"Potter?"

"Malfoy?" Potter spared a confused glance for Astoria. "What, uh, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to talk to Fallone."

"Fallone?" Potter blinked. "You mean Vitus?"

I nodded.

"But his name's not Fallone. He's Fiore. Vitus Fiore, son of Titus Fiore – you gave me his name, remember? I narrowed down the suspects of Cavalier's murderers to him…" Potter trailed off and blinked in confusion again. "Why are you talking to him?"

My mind was racing at that stage, trying to keep up. "Fallone, he – he's a regular at the speed-dating thing," I said very uncertainly. "He's a suspect."

"What do you mean his name isn't Fallone?" Astoria asked.

"The Ministry keeps records of people who officially change their names. Vitus Fiore changed his name as soon as he got out of Hogwarts. Officially he's 'Fallone', but…"

Potter shrugged at me, but I don't know why I was so surprised. I mentioned in a November entry – the second time I went to the speed-dating, actually – that I recognised Fallone from somewhere. Because I sort of knew _Titus_ Fiore, Death Eater, and Vitus Fallone looks an awful lot like his father. I knew it couldn't have been those Krum-like eyebrows.

While I communicated this to Astoria, Potter knocked on Fallone's door. He opened it a moment later.

"Hello?" he said, glance back and forth between the three of us on his doorstep.

"Mr Fiore?" Potter said. "I'm Harry Potter, Head Auror. I'd like to ask you some questions, if you don't mind."

"No, not at all," he lied. "Please, come in."

Astoria and I followed Potter in and hovered around in the study room Fallone led us to. Potter sat down with him first to talk, asking questions. I pretended not to listen but I caught everything anyway while I looked around. He had a lot of Agatha Christie books on his shelf. I don't know much about Muggle literature, but from the short amount of time I spent at the Muggle bookshop I do know that Agatha Christie was a crime writer.

"Do you like Muggle literature, Mr Fallone?" I asked in between Potter's questions.

"My wife was a collector," Fallone said. "I haven't read much of it myself."

"Hmm."

Whether or not this was a lie, I don't know. The spines of the books were all creased from being rigorously read, but that could have been new or old. Potter asked a few more questions then took his leave, saying that he'd be in touch with Fallone if anything else came up. Before he left (Fallone saw him to the door), Astoria picked up a photograph of Fallone's late wife. Brown hair, blue eyes, pretty thing: she looked very similar to Titania and a couple of the other girls.

When I sat down with Astoria to talk to him, he immediately said, very testily, "Can I expect another interrogation?"

"Why, are you busy?"

"I don't like being attacked in my own home, Malfoy," he said stiffly.

"It's just a couple of questions, Mr Fallone," Astoria said smoothly. "We won't be long."

She has a certain charm, Astoria. Livia did more than just inherit it, though; she maximises it to her fullest potential. Astoria's charm is subtle enough for most, and Fallone was susceptible. He relaxed, just a bit, and only for her.

"How did your wife die?" I asked. But, tactfully. I am not a man without tact.

Fallone winced and looked away. "She – she slipped in the shower. Broke her neck. It was an _accident_ – I didn't find her for two hours. They said she died instantly and there was nothing I could have done."

Broken neck, slipping in the shower? I glanced at Fallone's hands. They're large enough and he looks strong enough to snap someone's neck. Strong enough to strangle, as well?

"How old was your wife when she died?"

"Twenty-six."

"And you are currently how old?"

"Thirty."

"How did you meet your wife?"

Fallone cast a desperate glance at Astoria. "Why are you asking me all these questions? What does Laura have to do with Cavalier's death?"

"I'm not talking about the Cavalier case," I said. "Auror Potter will handle your connection to that. You are a person of interest in the deaths of Felicity Foulton, Arianna Desiree, Honoria Heston, Madison Levy, and Titania Greengrass." Fallone looked awfully pale, like he was about to faint. "Do you recognise some of their names? You met three of them at speed-dating, the same nights they died."

He shook his head. "Auror Pantera already talked to me about them," he said. "I'm not a suspect. I didn't have anything to do with them. I swear."

"Mr Fallone, some of those women bore a striking resemblance to your late wife."

"Draco," Astoria murmured, just as Fallone stood up angrily.

"How dare you!"

"Sit down, Fallone."

"No, I won't! This is my house, so don't tell me what to do! Get out! Just get out, Malfoy! I know what you're implying and you're wrong. I'm not a murderer. My father was a bad man, all right? I changed my name to get away from it and I started a new life with Laura. She – her death was an accident. I didn't kill her!"

"It's all right, Mr Fallone," Astoria said.

He stared tearfully at her. "Please believe me," he whispered.

Astoria held his gaze. "We won't bother you further," she said, then she dragged me out of the house.

I don't know what she was playing at. She won't tell me, except that she doesn't think he did it. Fiore – Fallone – whatever. Occam's Razor, right? Simplest explanation is probably the right one. So… Fallone is killing young women who remind him of his late wife. Maybe. Or he still has FD ties and killed Cavalier. So do I turn him over to Potter to investigate or do I wait for Pantera to get back and make him investigate? I don't even know which deaths belong to which case anymore. What if the girls who didn't have SWWSDA ties belong to the Cavalier murder case, and Fallone didn't have to do with that?

I'm so confused. Too many dead people.

Joseph Gardener, the other suspect, doesn't seem to have any clear motive. I spoke to him the other afternoon and he wasn't there on the night Titania was killed. Fallone, on the other hand, was there for all of them according to Pantera's notes. So why isn't he listed as the number 1 suspect? Because there's no proof?

I feel like I'm going around in circles. Now I know how Pantera feels – a list of names, no proof of anything, no ties and no leads.

My head hurts. Time to pull out the red string and turn my study wall into a spider web, I think. And get the House Elves to bring me some coffee.

* * *

><p><em>March 1, 2019<em>

I hate coming down from a caffeine high. I have a headache worse than I did two days ago – probably because I haven't slept at all. I have lots of leftover Muggle arts and crafts supplies from Livia's schooling – things she didn't need – and as I promised I turned my study wall into a spider web of red string and glued pictures and post-it notes.

Frankly, I think it's a work of art.

Weasley came by to check on me an hour ago, apparently having been sent by his wife and sister to make sure their pet was still being well fed and looked after. "Malfoy, are you – whoa. Um." Weasley froze in my doorway and eyed my study. "Were you… deprived of arts and crafts as a kid by any chance?"

Well, yes, but I was also sleep deprived at that moment and running on four cups of coffee which probably was not very healthy. "Weasley!" I said, spinning around and pointing at his chest.

"That's my name, don't wear it out."

"What connects the son of a Death Eater with FD ties to five girls turning up dead in Knockturn Alley?"

"Well, they're…" Weasley looked at the Wall of Red String, trying to catch up. "They're… all in their late twenties? How many of them knew each other?"

"Felicity Foulton and Titania Greengrass knew each other. And I think they might have known Cavalier, who knew Michael Fitzsimons who _might _have known them and might either be involved with FD or the speed-dating murders."

"…Okay. _How_ did they know each other?"

"Hogwarts," I said. And then something clicked. "Hogwarts!"

And then it unclicked.

"No," I sighed. "_Everyone_ knew each other at Hogwarts. It's too vague a connection. I need to look for a connection outside of school that links them." Then I glanced at Weasley and a thought occurred to me. "How did you get in here?"

Weasley rolled his eyes. "_Now_ he asks. Astoria let me in. You're not still sleeping with her, are you? Because –"

"No! No relationship advice! If you have something you want to say, write it down and put it in the Relationship Advice Box."

"The – _what_?"

I pointed at a red cardboard box on my desk that I'd hastily glued together earlier. It had the words 'Relationship Advice Box' written on it. "The red box!"

"Is that _glitter _–?"

"That's for you if you want to give me relationship advice. Write it down, put it in the box and I'll read it later."

"…How much coffee have you had?"

"Why?" I demanded.

Weasley took a step back and held up his hands. "No reason."

At least I wasn't so hyperactive as to point out that I made the box red specifically to match his hair. I don't think I'd ever have lived that down.

What connects the deaths of five women from a speed-dating agency to the deaths of four men, one being an FD suspect and another being a close friend of his from school who was poisoned last year?

At the moment: Vitus Fallone, and Jessica Altar. And now, I think it's time to get in contact with Catherine Nightingale.

After I recover from the caffeine.


	9. correspondence III

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

><p><strong>Draco Malfoy and the Perils of Dating<strong>

nine

_correspondence_

_March 2, 2019_

Dear Miss Nightingale,

I apologise if I seem forward in this letter. My name is Draco Malfoy. It is my understanding that you and Jessica Altar, whom I have already spoken to, were close friends of Titania Greengrass at school. Please accept my condolences for Titania's death. At present, I am attempting to find her killer and bring them to justice. The Auror in charge of her case, Ignatius Pantera, may or may not have contacted you previously, but he is currently out of the country.

I am writing to ask whether you would be willing to answer a few questions for me, regarding Titania. I understand a meeting would be somewhat difficult as you live in Germany, but if you are open to answering questions may I write to you again? Please reply as soon as is convenient for you.

Thank you for your time,

Draco Malfoy

* * *

><p><em>March 5, 2019<em>

Malfoy,

Well, I really hope you know what you've done to Teddy. 15 Galleons per hour! _15_! To watch his own God-siblings. An insult. It must be that Black gene that you woke up. All these years it was happily dormant, and then you had to go an offer to _pay_ him. If he turns into that money-hungry politician, I'll know exactly who to blame.

In other news, I'm putting the FD stuff aside. The Aurors and the Ministry are urging me to give the case up and call it all a false alarm. Fair enough, I guess. Giulia Gilbert herself told me that unless I pulled up something concrete in the next couple of days, it's over. A few Aurors think I should keep looking, but I'm not going to get backing from the Ministry anymore. Just when I was getting used to throwing my name around…

Hope you've had more luck on your case. Pantera's still in the States, right? When he gets back, tell him to do some real work because he doesn't get paid for nothing. He seems to listen to you.

H. Potter

* * *

><p><em>March 7, 2019<em>

Potter,

My evil plan is coming into fruition, it seems. I foresee Teddy Lupin will go far in life now that he understands the value of money, whether or not it was earned. Politician, you think? Hmm. I suppose if you disown him as your Godson, I'd be more than happy to take him off your hands and mentor him. It always pays to have a couple of politicians on your side, after all.

I'm not having much luck on my case either. I have a red web of string on my wall, but that's about it. When Pantera gets back I might get him to have a look at it and see if he can find a pattern that I'm missing. Ha! He listens to me? He doesn't listen to me, he uses me as a free psychiatrist. All he does is whine, half the time…

D. Malfoy

* * *

><p><em>March 10, 2019<em>

Malfoy,

I knew it, you evil scumbag, and now I have written proof of your insidious plotting. When I show Teddy the evidence, he will horrified by your manipulations.

(Or he could laugh and say that you have the right idea and maybe he'll take you up on your offer, which he most certainly did not do.)

Yeah, I heard about the red web of string on your wall from Ron. I _also_ heard about the "Relationship Advice Box". Glitter, Malfoy? Really?

H. Potter

* * *

><p><em>March 14, 2019<em>

Miss Livia Malfoy  
>Ravenswood College, Old Church Road<br>Pembury, Tunbridge Wells  
>Kent TN2 4AX, England<p>

Dear Livia,

Once again, things are very quiet in the house without you and Scorpius (and your Potter/Weasley friends) to make things exciting. I hope you're enjoying school still. How are your teachers and classes? Still going well?

You'll be proud to know that I have improved my cooking skills. Yesterday I successfully made spaghetti bolognese. I destroyed a cooking pot in the process, but that's beside the point.

As usual, I have enclosed a copy of the most recent _Daily Prophet_. Was there anything else you wanted me to send you?

I'll pick you up at the end of the month. I was thinking… how would you like to live in Kent? I have been considering purchasing a house in Muggle Kent and link the fireplace up with the Manor. Just thinking about it, of course; nothing set in stone. What do you think?

Much love,

Your father

* * *

><p><em>March 25, 2019<em>

Mr Draco Malfoy  
>Malfoy Manor<br>Salisbury  
>Wiltshire SP5 5QG, UK<p>

Dear Daddy,

Classes are going well! I still love them and my teachers are very good. Mr Howard teaches English and he's very funny.

Only one cooking pot this time? Maybe you are getting better. Can you cook for me when I come home? I think I would like to try some of your spaghetti bolognese.

Thank you for the _Daily Prophet_! I'm also sending you the Muggle newspaper, _The Daily Telegraph_, in case you wanted to read it. It has some interesting articles in it and I understand it a bit better now because I know more about the Muggle world.

Oh, please! Please, Daddy, I would _love_ to live here! You mean we might get a Muggle house? With a television and fridge and Internet? Scorpius would love that as well, I know he would! Thank you, Daddy, thank you thank you thank you!

Much love from Livia

PS: Miss Halcombe says she's still expecting you to arrive in a horse-drawn carriage. What does she mean?

* * *

><p><em>March 27, 2019<em>

Hugo Weasley  
>Weasley House, St. Andrew's Road<br>Avon, Portbury  
>Somerset BS24 9AY, UK<p>

Dear Hugo,

Guess what? Daddy's buying a house in Kent! A Muggle house! An actual Muggle house with a television and computers and Internet and all those other things we have at Ravenswood. I mean, he hasn't bought it _yet_ because he is still looking around for a nice one, but when he does he says that we'll be able to link the Floo up to the Manor. I will not be able to travel on my own but when we get a house in Kent you can come and visit! My school term is over and Daddy will pick me up tomorrow and we can look around some more houses with Scorpius.

I hope you're well! What have you been doing lately? I have been busy with school work. I love history. Muggle history is so interesting! They had much, much larger wars than the Wizarding world had.

Write soon!

Love from Livia

* * *

><p><em>March 30, 2019<em>

Livia Malfoy  
>Ravenswood College, Old Church Road<br>Pembury, Tunbridge Wells  
>Kent TN2 4AX, England<p>

Dear Livia,

That's wicked awesome! Does this mean you'll be able to send emails and stuff? And get a mobile phone? Mum has a mobile phone but she doesn't use it much. A Muggle house is brilliant! I told Dad and he started laughing for some reason.

I'm so _bored_ at home. I only have Lily to play with and she doesn't even want to play that much, she just likes talking about time travel. And all of my other cousins are older than me and play boring games like cards and chess, and they're always at Hogwarts anyway. I hate being one of the youngest. You're more fun than all of my cousins, anyway. I really want to go to Hogwarts soon so I can tell you stories about it. (Dad and Mum say I'm not allowed to go to a Muggle school, but I'm still going to ask.)

Love,

Hugo

* * *

><p><em>April 2, 2019<em>

Draco,

I think Pantera's given up on the cases, the bastard. I have not, and don't you dare think about giving up either. I'm going to go through Titania's old diaries and letters to see if I can find anything. Keep working on any possible connections and let me know if Catherine Nightingale tells you anything important.

I spoke to Vitus Fallone again yesterday but I don't think he has anything to do with Titania's death.

Please say hello to Scorpius for me, and pass on my regards to Livia.

Astoria

* * *

><p><em>April 3, 2019<em>

Astoria,

You shouldn't have gone to visit Fallone on your own. I know you don't think he has anything to do with it, but there's no proof that he doesn't. So be careful. What did you even go to visit him for, anyway?

Catherine Nightingale hasn't replied to me yet, so I'm waiting on that. Let me know if you find anything in Titania's old letters.

Scorpius gives his love.

Draco

* * *

><p><em>April 8, 2019<em>

Dear Scorpius,

I hope you're enjoying your stay at the Lovegood-Scamander household, although what you're doing there I really have no idea. Was this your idea, Albus's idea, or Lorcan/Lysander Scamander's idea? Either way, please refrain from pulling off another disappearing act like that. I was very worried until Mrs Scamander (or does she still go by Lovegood?) sent me a Patronus telling me where you went to. Is this some sort of burst of rebellion? The only reason I'm not charing over right now to drag you home by your ear is because you've behaved yourself all year up until yesterday.

Keep safe, don't scare me again, and thank Mr and Mrs Scamander for letting you stay.

Love,

Your father

* * *

><p><em>April 10, 2019<em>

Dear Dad,

Sorry. Lysander talked about it during the term then he and Albus sent me a letter and a Portkey, and I didn't _mean_ to stay! I was just going to go over for a moment and say 'hi' then go back to the Manor but then Luna told me she'd let you know I was here and Lysander asked me and Albus to play a match of Quidditch and I sort of lost track of time. So, yeah. Sorry for scaring you.

Love,

Scorpius

PS: I'll be home tomorrow.

PPS: Er. Sorry again. For scaring you. I won't do it again soon.

* * *

><p><em>April 11, 2019<em>

Dear Mr Malfoy,

I'm sorry for not replying sooner; I've been out of town and all of my mail was redirected to my empty house. I only just returned yesterday. I hope this letter doesn't come too late for your investigations. It's good to see that Titania's death is being investigated, nonetheless; she deserves to have justice done. Ignatius Pantera has not contacted me.

You can ask whatever you like. I'll tell you what I know, but there's no guarantee I'll tell you anything useful.

Regards,

Catherine Nightingale

* * *

><p><em>April 14, 2019<em>

Dear Miss Nightingale,

Thank you for the reply. No, it's not too late; I haven't made any progress on the case anyway. Auror Pantera has returned but we're both at a standstill. Hopefully anything you might give me can help.

What I'd first like to ask is: did Titania have any enemies that you knew of? Either during or after her school years? And did she ever say anything to you about speed-dating, or maybe mention someone she met there?

I'm also attaching a list of names to this letter. The list is of people who have died in the last year whose deaths may be related to Titania's. Could you please look through them and see if you knew any of them, and if you did then, then can you see any link between the names?

Thank you,

Draco Malfoy

* * *

><p><em>April 17, 2019<em>

Dear Mr Malfoy,

Well, I don't know if any of this will be useful to you, but this is all I can tell you. Titania mentioned she was going to a speed-dating session a few months before she died, but she never mentioned anyone she met there. As far as I know, she didn't have any enemies at school. After or outside of school, I wouldn't be able to tell you as I moved to Germany several years ago and I was no longer part of her social day-to-day group.

As for your other question and the list of names, I don't really know anyone else. Some of the names look familiar; according to their ages, I would have gone to Hogwarts with some of them. Fitzsimons and Cavalier vaguely ring a bell (I remember them from school – they were something of bullies but I rarely crossed paths with them), but the only other person I know anything about is Madeline Levy. I'm a family friend of her cousin, and the last I heard from her was that Madeline was convinced her boyfriend was cheating on her and was mentioned she was planning to go to a private investigator. Other than their ages, I can't see any link. That's all I can tell you, I'm sorry.

If you have more questions you can owl again, but there's no guarantee I'll be able to answer anything. Good luck with the case, Mr Malfoy. I hope you work it out soon.

Sincerely,

Catherine Nightingale

* * *

><p><em>April 17, 2019<em>

Draco,

I've been going through all of Titania's old letters to Daphne and me for the last two weeks. I should have remembered before but back then Titania was sending us a letter every couple of weeks so I could never remember anything specific. One in particular she sent to us when we were on vacation back in 2006 – remember when I was pregnant with Scorpius and I went to Australia with Daphne? – and Daphne kept it all these years. You really need to read it, Draco – I've made a copy of the original letter and I'm attaching it to this.

Draco, I know you have a tendency for it, but don't do anything stupid!

Astoria

* * *

><p><em>February 20, 2006<em>

_Dear Daphne and Astoria,_

_Sorry it's been so long since I last wrote to you both! I'm also sorry for writing one letter to the both of you, but you did say that you were on holidays together so I thought it might be easier. How's Australia? Is it warm? I hope you're both having a wonderful time. Next time I might just tag along! After school, of course… mother and father want me to focus on NEWTs for next year before they let me travel anywhere._

_I was about to write that nothing new was happening at Hogwarts (except that Professor Longbottom is gorgeous), but I do have news this week! Something so embarrassing happened. Do you remember that boy I told you about last year, the one who always gets picked on? He asked me out on Valentine's Day – in the middle of the corridor! Everyone heard and it's already all over the school. I felt so_ bad _for him. Everyone calls him Iggy 'Pant-less' (that awful Harvey Kissinger in Gryffindor always hexes his pants off when the teachers aren't looking). But I couldn't say yes! He's younger than me, for one, and – oh, this is going to sound awful, but he has terrible skin and he's not very good-looking and he's a bit of a dork. I don't think I've even spoken to him all that much. It's bad enough those brutes Cavalier and Fitzsimons pick on Iggy, but he's just made things so much worse for himself. What was he expecting? For me to say yes? Daphne, Astoria – I feel so mean. Should I have said yes? I wouldn't have meant it – I might have said 'yes' because I felt sorry for him, which would have been cruel anyway. It's too late now, I suppose – Honoria Heston wrote all about it and put it up on the notice board already. She kept my name out of it, but I feel terrible for poor Iggy._

_Anyway. That was the excitement for the week. It'll probably be all over by tomorrow – gossip doesn't last long at Hogwarts, but I'm sure you both know that already! I've been studying hard but Ancient Runes is driving me _insane_. I'm considering dropping the subject – I know I'm just going to fail it and I don't really want to keep it for my NEWTS next year. What do you two think? I know you did it for NEWTS, Astoria – is it worth it?_

_Enjoy the rest of your holiday! You'll have to tell me all about the Great Barrier Reef – is it as beautiful as people say? Please pass on my love to your children, Daphne! And Astoria, congratulations! Do you think it'll be a boy or a girl? Give my regards to Draco when your holiday is over!_

_Much love,_

_Titania_

* * *

><p><em>April 17, 2019<em>

Potter –

I don't have time to explain properly, but here's the rundown: Pantera's the serial killer. He's responsible for Cavalier too, and at least three other men, I'm sure of it. Everything you need is in my journal that I'm sending with this letter. Get to Pantera's private office as soon as you can.

D. Malfoy


	10. a recount of events by draco malfoy

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

><p><strong>Draco Malfoy and the Perils of Dating<strong>

ten

_a recount of events by Draco Malfoy  
>[journal unavailable]<em>

_April 27, 2019_

I woke up yesterday to find myself in a bed in St Mungo's hospital.

Clearly I'd missed something, because Potter was the first person I saw. I groaned.

"First of all," Potter announced, sitting down on the bed next to me. He's not the skinny twerp he used to be – my bed sank with his weight. "You're a stupid idiot and you nearly died." I was still a bit too out of it to do anything other than groan again. "Secondly –" he brandished my journal at me. "– a diary, Malfoy? Really?"

"S'not a diary," I slurred. "S'a journal."

Potter snorted, but it was very half-hearted. "I'm going to have to hang onto this for a while, as evidence. Is that okay?"

"S'fine," I said, but it actually isn't because I have private stuff in that journal and I'll probably end up being the laughing stock of the Auror departments. That's the reason I'm writing his on pieces of parchment instead of in my journal as I usually would. Also I'm obsessive and I need to write everything down – I need clear my thoughts and get everything in order before Potter has me write an official statement out.

Back to the beginning:

When I received Astoria's letter and Titania's old letter, moments after getting Catherine Nightingale's letter, everything fell into place.

Hogwarts. The ages of the victims. Diagon Alley as the major common denominator, not the speed-dating.

I didn't stop to think. Usually I pride myself on having _common sense_ and _survival skills_, like a proper Slytherin should, right?

Yeah, no. Not so much. Clearly I have been spending far too much time around those Gryffindors Potter and Weasley. Stupidity must be contagious. It's the only explanation. I shot out of the house and Floo'd to Diagon Alley, heading straight to Pantera's private practice. "I ruin marriages for a living," he'd said before. That was also one of the links. His office, in easy walking distance from Knocturn Alley and SWWSDA meetings.

At least I had enough common sense left to send my journal and the letters and a hastily slapped-together flow chart to Potter. If you're going off to confront a murderer, you don't go in being the only one who knows the full story. That's the epitome of stupidity. Granted, I really wasn't that far off.

It was late when I got to Diagon Alley. No-one was around. The street lamps gave the place this eery glow; very _noir_. On my way to Pantera's office, I passed a young woman; the only one I could see on the street. She was leaning against a lamp post, and at first I thought she was Ginny, but she was too young and her features weren't right. She was writing in a diary, and she nodded at me politely as I passed.

Pantera wasn't in his office. I was hit by unexpected relief; I didn't actually want to confront him. I needed to look through his files and find something, anything, that would tie him back to all of the murders completely. He didn't seal the office; a simple _Alohamora_ got me inside. I suspected he might have warded the place, and I limited myself to ten minutes searching for something that would tie him to Cavalier or Madison Levy.

I made it to five minutes.

"You won't find their files."

I turned around slowly, away from the filing cabinet.

Pantera shut the door behind him, watching me with cold eyes. Not tired eyes, not defeated. _Cold_. And I knew, then, that I was absolutely right.

Still, I wet my lips, finding myself nervous. "You don't know what I'm looking for."

Pantera glared at the ground in this sort of chilling vague manner. I used to think he was handsome, actually, if a bit generic. But that was all in his expression, his features, his attitude. That was all stripped away, in that moment. All that was left was Ignatius Pantera.

No, not Ignatius Pantera. Iggy 'Pant-less', all grown up and twisted.

"The files. I burned them. You'll never find a connection to me."

"You know I know."

"It's the only reason you'd break into my office."

Pantera was a psychopath and an actor. He wasn't stupid, however much he pretended to be. He walked towards me slowly and I found myself walking back, trying to keep an even distance. _Talk_, I remember thinking to myself. _Talk to him and keep him occupied. Potter will know you're here and he'll come soon. Keep his attention._

So I talked. I get annoyed when the perpetrators do their obligatory victory exposition speech. It's as though they can't help but gloat. I didn't talk to gloat; I was talking to keep him entertained. "The speed-dating agency was never the link," I found myself saying. "It was a link, sure – because it was what you had in common with some of the victims. You were at it the night Titania died. And then you thought you could pin it on me. What was it you said? _Potter has a bad habit of assuming the best of everyone._ You weren't just putting me under suspicion – you were_gloating._"

"You think you're clever, don't you, Draco."

"No, I don't think so. I know so."

He scoffed at me, and I kept talking.

"The link was Hogwarts. Pretty much every witch or wizard you see when there, right? Someone always knows someone. And you knew all of them. Titania was in the year above you – everyone loved her, you said. Including you. You asked her out and she turned you down at school. Poor, bullied Iggy Pant-less."

Pantera flinched, and I knew I struck the right chord. It _was_ about that. I realise belatedly that taunting him probably wasn't the smartest thing I could do at the time.

"She turned you down and you were picked on even more. Honoria Heston wrote about it and pinned on a notice board. Cavalier and Fitzsimons gave you hell. Harvey Kissinger was in your year and he always hexed your pants off. What about the other girls? Felicity and Madison and Arianna? Did you like them as well – and they turned you down, just like Titania?"

"They laughed at me at school."

"You had bad skin at school. You weren't very handsome, were you." I walked around him, and he walked as well, keeping an even distance between us. "You're not like that now. You're good-looking. And none of them recognised you, did they?"

Pantera twitched. "Titania," he whispered. "She didn't even recognise my name."

"It made you angry."

He didn't answer, and I knew I was right again. It must have made him furious – to sit in front of the gorgeous woman who once humiliated him at school, and she didn't even recognise her name. But the thing was, Titania committed no crime at all. So, she turned him down at school and he was picked on because of it – her death was completely unjustified. Pantera killed her out of spite. Out of bitterness. For no real reason at all.

He wasn't just vengeful. He was a psychopath.

I didn't have any sympathy for him. "Madison came to this office so that you could follow her boyfriend," I said slowly, trying to control my own anger. "What about the others?"

He narrowed his eyes at me, as if saying, _You slow idiot_. "I'm a non-magical crimes Auror. There's always something – a break-in, an unfaithful spouse, stolen goods. You'd be surprised how many of my old classmates came to me, expecting me to help them when I spent _years_ being tortured by them!"

"You ruin marriages for a living," I said. "That was the link to Arianna and Madison. Madison Levy came to your private practice, didn't she? Wanting you to follow the boyfriend she thought was unfaithful."

Pantera shook.

"I think I've figured out everyone except Jackson Mills. He was in your year at school. Mugged in May last year."

At this, Pantera did look a bit surprised. "Jackson Mills? Heh. I didn't have anything to do with him."

Okay, well, fine. We can't all be perfect. I stopped talking about Mills. "Every time you said there was a 'dead end' or 'no connection', you were lying so that we couldn't get any closer. Because no-one would suspect an Auror." I remember gripping my wand tightly there, because Pantera made a short, sharp move – almost like a jerk reflex. "Cavalier. You were at the Muggleborn Fund Christmas Charity Ball as well. Jonathan Cavalier used to bully you at school. Potter said they used Veritaserum on the guests and found nothing – because the murderer wasn't a guest, was it, Pantera? You said so yourself – Potter sees the best in people. You might have been the underdog of the Aurors, but you were still an Auror. The last person to fall under suspicion, but the person with the best resources and skills to hide a weapon and not leave a trace, ensuring that the non-magical murder would place it _straight_ into your jurisdiction where it would turn cold. And no-one else would care because who cares about cases in the Non-magical Crimes department?"

I glanced around the room.

"Is it here? The weapon?"

"You'll never find it."

"No, I'm sure I will. You're sentimental, Ignatius. You care about these things. You're obsessive. If you weren't, you wouldn't have killed all those people for school day revenge." I glanced around the office again. Messy, but… not a _natural_ mess. I know natural mess – I've been raising two kids on my own for the past couple of years, and the state their bedrooms get into is atrocious. But that mess – it was calculated. Piles of paper intentionally stacked, pizza boxes all over the place. He was playing to the stereotype: down-on-his-luck, underdog-Auror, but casual and open._You can trust me – I'm messy, just like you!_

But Pantera wasn't messy by nature. He was obsessive and therefore ordered. How else could he have kept the evidence hidden so well, all these years? He's into Muggle crimes; he knows how to cover up non-magical crimes. And we're wizards; our instinct is to think of magic. He used that against the Aurors. He was obsessive and ordered – but he was also passionate, which meant he'd made mistakes. He'd put the weapon somewhere in the office, right under his gloating eye.

"You almost screwed up with Cavalier," I said. It was more just to keep the talk going – Pantera was looking unstable, red-faced and shaking silently. I knew what he was capable of; he was a strong man, and his hands – like Fallone's – were large and powerful, capable of strangling someone to death, or capable of stabbing them. If I kept talking, maybe I could keep him occupied until Potter arrived. "When you saw him at the function, you couldn't resist, could you? Only thing was, you killed someone with FD links – which put it straight into Potter's jurisdiction. There was a chance he'd trace it back to you – and then how many? So you stopped killing for a while."

"Not one since that night. Do you know how _agonising_ it's been, watching my old school mates pass me by and not recognising me? How easy it would be to lure them down Knockturn Alley and strangle them?"

"Easy for you, maybe. Your office isn't too far from it. You could pull it off."

"I _did_ pull it off."

"No, you didn't. I caught up to you. It took a while, but I did. Your motive was also your mistake – everyone always knows someone. It took a while to piece it together, but once I had the right letters in my hand with the right memories and the right suspicions…"

"You're a meddling idiot, Malfoy."

"I told you," I said, "I can't resist sticking my nose in places it doesn't belong." I paced again, keeping an eye on him. He wouldn't move and didn't look at me, so I carefully continued. "I thought Hogwarts was the connection. The age similarities, how many of them knew each other from school. The only reason I didn't click to it sooner was because of you: _everyone_ goes to Hogwarts. Motive, right there – you're the right age. You knew everyone single of them, and no-one put it together because no-one remembers the name of the person they bullied at school."

"They _forgot_ me," Pantera muttered. It was more like he was talking to himself. "Years they tortured me, and they didn't even remember my face. Didn't even remember my _name_."

"Pantera." He looked at me. "What I don't understand is _why_. Look at you! You're not that dorky kid from school that everyone picked on anymore. You could have been more successful than any of them – you could have revolutionised the Non-magical crimes department and shown them all up! Wouldn't that have been a better revenge?"

"_Better_?" Pantera spat. "How could it be _better_ when they didn't even recognise me or know my name? There's no victory in that." His hands tightened on the edges of his desk, knuckles turning white. "She did recognise me eventually, you know," he said. "Titania. When I had my hands around her neck, squeezing the life out of her, I could see it in her eyes. She knew _exactly_ who I was." He threw his head back and laughed. "It was amazing."

I don't know why I didn't throw a spell at him when his back was turned, or attack him. I wanted to keep him talking because I wanted to hear it as much as he wanted to gloat. "You've killed people, Ignatius."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Then it's a good thing I have you here to pin the blame on. Underdog Ignatius Pantera, Auror for non-magical crimes, finally traced the murders back to ex-Death Eater and scorned ex-husband Draco Malfoy!" Pantera grinned nastily. "Just when I called him in to tell him I knew everything and he'd better confess, he attacked – and I killed him in self-defence –"

"Nice try, but no. I made a copy of all the relevant letters and sent my journal with all of my findings to Potter. People know it's you, Pantera."

He scowled. A real, ugly scowl – one that revealed the depth of his hatred. There was something sick and twisted in it. "You little shithead."

"Only Ronald Weasley gets to call me that."

"Then he can be the one to call you that at your funeral!"

He attacked.

If he'd thrown a curse at me, I know I could have blocked it. I know I would have retaliated in kind, because that was the attack I was expecting. I'm a wizard, and I still think like a wizard.

But he lunged himself at me, holding a Muggle handgun that he'd _pulled out from Merlin knows where_, and I panicked and frankly _forgot_ I could do magic. I leapt out of the way but not fast enough – he ploughed into my legs and we crashed to the ground. My wand, of course, flew out of my hand and landed in one of his artistic piles of rubbish.

I have fought in hand-to-hand combat before, and I can hold my own. But when I took down Kingson in the Hogwarts dungeons last year, it was because I was fuelled by an overwhelming urge to protect my son. I don't even remember most of it: just struck by the need to save Scorpius. As I tackled Pantera, blocking blows and getting smashed against desks and walls and windows, all I could think of was, _I need to stop eating so much ice cream I'm so unfit_ and _holy shit he's going to kill me._

Because he was. I know he was. He smashed the gun across my face when he finally caught me in a pin. I remember pain blinding me, paralysing. He didn't shoot me – that was what I was really panicking about. But he just held it against my head, looking crazed and furious.

"You meddling little _fuck_ –"

And then he wrapped his left hand around my throat, dropped the gun to one side, added his right hand to my neck, and started to squeeze.

I've never been strangled before. It's… hard to describe. At first, I didn't even know what was happening. And when it clicked – _he's killing me I can't breathe_ – I panicked again, and started to writhe in his holding, kicking up at him and squirming. The pressure around my neck went tighter, I gave up on trying to claw at his face and tried to pry his hands off instead. What felt like hours were actually seconds.

When you can't breathe, your instinct is to get away from whatever is stopping you from breathing. It's a bit hard to get away from something that was pinning you down and had hands like rocks.

This is how Titania died, I thought. Struggling for air, panicking, terrified, hoping that someone would save her at the last minute.

I stopped struggling at some stage. I didn't have the strength for it anymore. I generally consider myself to be a strong man, but Pantera was stronger. I thought about Scorpius and Livia in those moments before I was due to black out. I wondered if they'd ever know how their dad died, where they'd go, who would be there for them.

I shouldn't have gone to Pantera's office. I'm not an Auror. I have two children to look after – I should never have put myself in that situation. But I did, because I'm a stupid idiot. I should have listened to Astoria – _don't do anything stupid!_ I didn't even _think_. I must be having a midlife crisis – Draco Malfoy, pretending to be a hero.

No-one was there to save Titania at the last minute.

Someone was there to save me.

A woman burst into the office. My vision was blurring with black splotches at that stage and my only coherent thought was, _That's the woman I passed on the street._ The one I mistook for Ginny Potter.

I don't even know her name. She burst in and raised her wand to attack Pantera, but hesitated – startled by the scene. And Pantera was too quick. He let go of my neck with his right hand, grabbed the gun, and shot her in the chest three times before she could even complete her _Expelliarmus_. I didn't even hear it; I just remember the vividness of the blood spraying from her body three times and she fell, face caught in this sort of startled innocence.

I don't remember her hitting the ground. I do remember becoming aware of Pantera's loosened grip on my throat and being able to breathe again, and hearing myself think _move or he'll actually kill you this time_. In what must have been desperation, I kicked up at him. I took him by surprise – he yelped when my foot landed in his gut. Not that it accomplished anything – it didn't even wind him. I was still lying on the floor, gasping for air and _still not breathing_, and he stood up and levelled the gun at my head.

This time, two people ran into the office.

"_Accio_ gun!"

Astoria's voice.

_Get out of here he'll kill you_, I thought, but at that stage my body forgot how to breathe and I couldn't do anything more than gurgle pathetically. The gun was ripped from Pantera's hand and flew straight into Astoria's. She held it shakily, like she didn't know what to do with it, but her finger slipped naturally around the trigger and she aimed it at Pantera's head.

"This is for Titania, you _bastard_," Astoria spat. Pantera lunged –

And she fired. Shot him straight between the eyes.

His head snapped back sharply.

I blacked out. And then Fallone (_Fallone!_) was kneeling over me, checking my pulse and asking me if I could breathe. I couldn't. I choked. Astoria telling me to stay with them, help was coming.

Potter's voice in the distance, and from the periphery of my gaze I could see him kneeling beside the woman who'd tried to save me.

I blacked out again, and then I woke up yesterday in St Mungo's with Potter in my room.

"You've been out for nine days," he told me after tucking my journal back into an evidence bag. (Shit.) "Keep resting. You'll feel better soon. We got you here just in time, you know, you lucky bastard. If Fallone hadn't given you mouth-to-mouth…"

Ew.

Before Potter left, I stopped him. "Wait," I croaked. "The woman. Girl. Who… who was she?"

Potter shrugged, but he was trying and failing to hide a distressed expression. "A passing woman who heard the fight going on and came up to help you. That's all."

"Her… name?"

"I don't know."

I started to cry a bit there. In my defence, it had been a very traumatic week and the anaesthesia wasn't helping. I wonder if that girl had a family, if they even knew she was dead because of me. Potter put his hand on my shoulder.

"Don't feel guilty, Malfoy. It… happens, you know. Innocents getting caught in the crossfire. It… it wasn't your fault. It wasn't."

But he looked like he was about to cry as well, then he left. That was a few hours ago. I'm feeling better, sort of.

_Later_

Not really.

_Later again_

Maybe a bit better now. Weasley came by to visit today.

"You," he announced, "are a crazy moron."

"Thanks." I still sound like I swallowed a cup full of shattered glass. Clearly Weasley thought so too, because he winced when I spoke.

"You know what you need?"

"What?" I rasped.

"Ice cream," Weasley said decisively. He left as swiftly as he arrived, and then came back twenty minutes later with a bowl of ice cream that he shoved at me. "Here."

"…Thank you."

I also feel really dorky writing on loose sheets of parchment and needing to stick them together with a small Sticking Charm. So I'm going to stop writing now.

_Later again_

Maybe I should just get a new journal. I don't know how long Potter is going to keep mine. He's probably not even using it as evidence. He's probably showing it to Ginny and Granger and Weasley and cackling about everything I've written.

Twerp.

* * *

><p><em>April 28, 2019<em>

Astoria brought the children to St Mungo's earlier today.

I'd asked to see them before, when I woke up, but the Healers advised me against it until I was a bit stronger. I'm only half-glad I listened; I really did need strength to see them. Astoria hovered awkwardly in the doorway, letting Scorpius charge past her and Livia slip close towards me. Scorpius – my poor son. I knew before what I almost did to him and his sister, but seeing him, seeing his face tense and terrified and full of anger, was worse than being strangled by Pantera.

"All those lectures you gave me about not getting into trouble and staying safe! You hypocrite! I hate you!" Scorpius yelled, then burst into tears and launched himself into my arms. "D-don't do that again – don't you _dare_ –"

"I'm sorry," I murmured into his hair. "I'm so sorry."

"I hate you," he sobbed. "Please don't ever do that again."

Livia crawled up beside us. She didn't say anything, but she hugged me tightly and the three of us stayed like that for I don't know how long. Astoria must have left during that, because when I looked over at the doorway she was gone. Eventually Scorpius pulled back, wiped his eyes, and crossed his arms.

"I mean," he said haltingly, "it was kind of cool that you were in the newspapers and everything and that you're a hero and stuff. Except for you nearly dying. That wasn't cool."

* * *

><p><em>April 30, 2019<em>

Astoria came to see me today, to say goodbye. Not for good, of course. I'm sure I'll see her around. As it transpires, she's eloping.

With Vitus Fallone.

"Do you have an eyebrow fetish or something?" was all I could manage to say.

She glared at me, but it was very half-hearted. I don't know how long it's been going on for and I'm not sure I really want to know. But I guess if she's happy, then… okay. Whatever.

"Thank you," I said before she left, "for bringing Livia here."

She would have had to go all the way to Kent and waltz into a Muggle school and come face-to-face with the daughter she rejected to bring her here. I think I've underestimated Astoria.

Astoria just nodded and looked away. She looked very sad and alone for a moment. "You're a wonderful father, Draco. Did I ever tell you that?" she said softly, and then she left.

* * *

><p><em>May 3, 2019<em>

Note to self – talk to children about this _extensively_ before making a final decision:

Potter and Weasley again came to visit today, this time to take my complete statement. Afterwards, Potter casually said, "We find ourselves short on a Non-magical crimes Auror." He raised his eyebrows at me. "What do you say?"

It took me a couple of minutes to realise what he was asking. "Wha– me?"

"Yes," Weasley said. "You. Draco Malfoy. In the bed with a bowl of ice cream and a makeshift diary. You."

"I. What."

Weasley rolled his eyes. "I _told_ you to wait until they took him off the drugs," he said to Potter.

"But – why?" I spluttered.

Potter ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair. "Well," he said, "you were pretty good back there."

"I almost got myself _killed_ back there. And don't I need to sit through tests to be even be _considered_ –?"

"Nah," Weasley said. "S'one of the perks of being friends with the Head Auror."

"Friends," I murmured. "Is that what we are?"

Potter blinked and shared a look with Weasley. "Well," Potter said haltingly, "not if you don't – I mean." He looked flustered. "We can just be, I don't know. Semi-non-antagonistic-parents-of-children-who-are-friends –"

When I get out of this bed I am going to hand it to him _so hard._

"No, it's… it's good," I said, and Potter and Weasley grinned.

_Later_

I did say I needed to get another job, after all.


	11. postscript

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

><p><strong>Draco Malfoy and the Perils of Dating<strong>

eleven

_from the (new) journal of Draco Malfoy, postscript_

_June 21, 2019_

Potter never did end up giving me back my journal, but Granger gave me this one for my birthday instead. (She also gave me a book on Muggle aircraft, which I have not at all looked at yet or made notes on. At all.)

So this is the first entry in my journal since getting it. Up until now I haven't been writing anything down, but I'll record the last couple of months eventually. For now…

I picked up Scorpius from Platform 9 ¾ yesterday. The usual Platform shenanigans occurred – last minute goodbyes, ritualistic hugging of Rose Weasley and Albus Potter. Thank Merlin my children stayed out of trouble this year: I think I got into enough trouble on my own to make up for all of us. As we left (Livia wasn't with us – I picked her up from school today), Scorpius said, very cheekily, "So, do I have to call you Auror Malfoy now?"

Because I'm an Auror – the shiny new Non-magical crimes Auror. I honestly have _no clue what I'm doing._

Weasley was a bucket of reassurance: "Hey, think of it this way – you can't _possibly_ be worse than Pantera."

I'm very motivated.

That was yesterday. Today, I took Scorpius with me to Pembury to pick up Livia. She was ecstatic that her big cool brother came; he was mostly trying to pretend he didn't find it all that interesting and pretending he didn't like the attention of Livia's gaggle of friends. I left them for a moment to their own devices when Miss Halcombe and I saw each other at the same moment. She excused herself from a couple with their own young daughter and approached me.

"Mr Malfoy," she said. Her arms were crossed.

"Miss Halcombe."

"I never took you for the danger-seeking sort," Miss Halcombe said. "I hope you know what a shock you gave me, when Ms Greengrass arrived at the school to retrieve Livia."

"Er. What exactly did Astoria say?"

Miss Halcome raised her eyebrows. "Something about you being strangled by a serial killer, nearly dying, being in a coma and being placed on life-support."

"Oh. Well. Astoria was never very tactful." I blinked, and for the first time I noticed how Miss Halcombe was looking at me: faintly relieved, hiding her true fear. I felt both simultaneously happy that she cared enough about me to worry, and guilty that I'd made her feel that way anyway.

"Ms Greengrass is very beautiful," Miss Halcombe said, and she glanced away. "Are you and she together again, or –?"

"No!" I was entirely too quick to say. I cleared my throat and tried for a more even, casual tone. "No. Not at all. She's actually just eloped with someone else. I hope she didn't give you the impression – I mean, we've been working together closely for a bit, but – that's it." I shoved my hands into my pockets. "I apologise for any undue stress I caused you –"

"You're apologising for nearly dying?" she exclaimed.

"Um. Yes?" I rubbed the back of my neck. "It's new a hobby of mine. I got bored of Luddites Anonymous."

"So I hear from Livia. Although if you'll forgive me, Luddites Anonymous sounds like a considerably _safer_ hobby." She allowed herself a smile. "You're a… detective now?"

"Something like that."

She assessed me silently, trying to figure me out. The entire year I've been infuriatingly vague with her and she knows it. She's not unintelligent – very sharp, actually. She knew there was something very decidedly not _normal_ about me, the moment we met. In that moment, I was struck by the desire to escape or do something on impulse.

I compromised.

"I should, uh –" I said, glancing around at my children who were waiting by the Ministry car.

"Yes, it's –"

"– go now –"

"– have to get back to work –"

"– Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow?"

"I –" She stopped and blinked, and I'm sure we both looked like we couldn't believe I'd just blurted that out. "Mr Malfoy, don't you live in Wiltshire?"

"Well, yes, but I'm going to buy a property here in Kent." She opened her mouth again to speak, but I quickly said, "I mean, you don't have to come to lunch with me. I'm sure you're busy –"

"Mr Malfoy –"

"– and before you say yes or no, you need to know something about me," I said. Blurted, actually. All of this was one big embarrassing _blurt_. "When I was a teenager my parents were involved in, um, extremist groups. Very racist, very backwards. They did a lot of bad things. _I_ did a lot of bad things." I remembered something Livia had said to me, when she was telling me about the Muggle World War II. "Sort of like Nazism. Hitler Youth."

I was rambling by that stage and very aware of it. I stopped talking. I practically hear her mind racing: _Is this what you've been hiding, Mr Malfoy?_

Well. It's _a_ thing I've been hiding. And I _sort of_ told her the truth. Granger has written papers comparing the Dark Lord's reign to Nazi Germany.

"Are you… _still_ involved in those things?" Miss Halcombe said carefully.

"No! No, I – um. It's been more than twenty years since… all of that. I don't –" I cleared my throat and looked away. "I'm sorry. I just thought you should know."

She watched me again, very carefully. I'm sure she knows that there's far more to it than my past, but she didn't say anything and I didn't offer anything else. Just when I was about to call it a failure and return home as quickly as possible to curl up into a little ball of shame and embarrassment, she said, "In that case, you should know that I don't usually make a habit of dating my students' attractive single fathers, Mr Malfoy."

"That's okay," I said faintly, although my mind was sort of joyfully caught on the fact that she considered me attractive, receding hairline and all. "I don't usually make a habit of dating my children's attractive and hopefully single teachers."

She laughed and turned a bit red. "Yes."

"Sorry?"

She smiled at me. "Yes, I would love to have lunch with you tomorrow."

I gaped at her. "I. Er. Good," I spluttered a bit. "Great! I mean – I'll see you tomorrow, then."

If Weasley could have seen my face, I wouldn't be allowed to tease his hair ever again. Miss Halcombe and I vaguely arranged details, agreeing upon lunch in a small restaurant not too far away from the school.

"Oh, and Mr Malfoy?" she said, cheeks faintly pink, before I started towards the Ministry car.

"Yes, Miss Halcombe?"

She gave me a grin that, yes, made me feel ridiculously happy. "You still owe me that horse-drawn carriage arrival."

**Things to do:**

**1.** _Today_ – finalise contract with Aurors / ritual abuse of Potter and Weasley  
><strong>– 1.a.<strong> Celebratory ice cream in Diagon Alley with extended Potter and Weasley families  
><strong>– 1.b.<strong> Bring children (NB: forbid them from wearing anything red)  
><strong>2.<strong> _Near future_ – fix Non-magical Crimes Department – find assistant ( ? Teddy Lupin. Family ties, etc. etc.)  
><strong>3.<strong> _Near future_ – find and eventually buy a house in Muggle Kent (bribe/trick/beg Granger into helping)  
><strong>4.<strong> _Tomorrow_ – lunch with Marian  
><strong>– 4.a.<strong> Turn up in a horse-drawn carriage.

**the end**

* * *

><p>Stick around for the rest of the <span>journals &amp; ice cream<span> series! You can check out my profile page for more information on some of the stories, but I'm putting the full list of the titles here anyway:

1. Draco Malfoy and the Trials of Single Parenthood **[complete]  
><strong>2. Draco Malfoy and the Perils of Dating **[complete]  
><strong>3. Ronald Weasley and the Midlife Crises **[complete]  
><strong>4. Lorcan Scamander and the Year of Raging Hormones **[in progress]**  
>5. The Invention of Hugo Weasley<br>6. We Need To Talk About Lily  
>7. The Vanishing Act of Hadrian Malfoy<br>8. The Time Traveller's Husband

Yes, titles 5 to 8 are all bad puns on best-selling published books. _Don't judge me_.


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